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Ctnudian  Institute  for  Historical  Microrsproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  da  microraproductions  historiquas 


•!• 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notes  technique  et  bibliographiques 


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the  images  in  the  reproduction,  or  which  may 
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I     I     Covers  damaged  / 

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r~l<    Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)  / 
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I  (/     Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations  / 
' — '      Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 


D 

D 
D 


D 


Bound  with  ottier  material  / 
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Only  edition  available  / 
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Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
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Blank  leaves  added  during  restorations  may  appear 
within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these  have 
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pages  blanches  ajouttes  lors  d'une  restauration 
appaiaissent  dans  '?  texte,  mais,  kxsque  cela  itait 
possible,  ces  pages  n'ont  pas  He  filmdes. 


L'Instilut  a  microfilms  le  meilleur  examplaire  qu'il  lui  a 
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ode  nomnale  de  filmage  sont  indiqu6s  ci-dessous. 

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a  nouveau  de  fa^on  k  obtenir  la  meilleure 
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ayant  des  colorations  variat>les  ou  des  decol- 
orations sont  film^es  deux  fois  afin  d'obtenir  la 
meilleur  image  possible. 


D 


Additkinal  comments  / 
Commentaires  suppl^mentaiies: 


Tliii  ittin  is  f  ilmad  it  <h«  rtduction  tnio  ehiektd  btlow/ 

Ce  document  tst  f  iimi  au  taux  d:  rtduction  indiqui  ci-dcsious. 

lOX  1«x  18X 


d 


12X 


20X 


26  X 


24X 


28X 


Tha  copy  filmad  hart  haa  baan  raproduead  thanka 
to  tha  ganareaitv  of: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


L'axamplaira  filmt  fut  raproduit  grlea  t  It 
a^ntroiit*  da: 

Blbllothequa  natlonale  du  Canada 


Tha  imaga*  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  bast  quality 
poMibla  ceniidaring  tha  condition  and  lagibility 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  liaoping  with  tha 
filming  contract  •pacifications. 


Laa  imagas  suivantas  ont  tt*  raproduiiat  avac  la 
plus  grand  soin,  compta  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
da  la  nattat*  da  l'axamplaira  filmi,  at  »n 
eonformlta  avac  laa  conditions  du  conirat  da 
filmaga. 


Original  copias  in  printad  papar  covars  ara  fllmod 
baginning  with  tha  front  covar  and  anding  on 
tha  last  paga  with  a  printad  or  illustratad  impraa- 
sion,  or  tha  back  covar  whan  approprlata.  All 
othar  original  copias  ara  filmad  baginning  on  tha 
first  paga  with  a  printad  or  illustratad  impraa- 
sion,  and  anding  on  tha  last  paga  with  a  printad 
or  illuatratad  imprassion. 


Las  aaamplairaa  originaux  dont  la  eouvartura  »n 
papiar  aat  imprimto  sont  film^s  an  commancant 
par  la  pramiar  plat  at  an  tarminant  loit  par  la 
darniAra  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainia 
d'lmprassion  ou  d'illustration.  soit  par  la  sacond 
plat,  salon  la  caa.  Toua  las  autras  axamplairas 
originaux  sont  fllmts  an  commandant  par  la 
pramiAra  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'impraation  ou  d'illuatration  at  an  tarminant  par 
la  darnitra  paga  qui  comporta  una  talla 
amprainta. 


Tha  last  racordad  frama  on  aach  microfieha 
shall  contain  tha  symbol  ^^  (moaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  tha  symbol  V  (moaning  "END"), 
whichavar  applias. 


Un  das  symbolas  suivanta  tpparaitra  sur  la 
darniira  imaga  da  ehaqua  microfieha.  salon  la 
cas:  la  symbols  — ^  signifia  "A  SUIVRE",  la 
symbols  V  signifia  "FIN". 


Maps,  piatas,  charu.  ate,  may  ba  filmad  at 
diffarant  raduction  ratios.  Thosa  too  larga  to  ba 
•niiraly  includad  in  ona  axposura  ara  filmad 
baginning  in  tha  uppar  laft  hand  cornar.  iaft  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  framas  as 
raquirad.  Tha  following  diagrams  illustrata  tha 
mathod: 


Las  cartas,  planchas,  tablaaux,  ate,  pauvant  atrs 
filmOs  a  das  taux  da  rMuction  diffOrants. 
Lorsqua  la  documani  ast  trap  grand  pour  atra 
raproduit  an  un  saul  clicho.  il  ast  fllma  a  partir 
da  I'angia  supAriaur  gaucha,  da  gaucha  A  droits. 
at  da  haut  an  baa.  an  pranant  la  nombra 
d'imagas  nOcassaira.  Las  diagrammas  suivants 
illuatrant  la  mOthoda. 


1  2  3 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

MldOCOTY   tlSCHUTION   TBI  CHAfll 

(ANSI  ond  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  J) 


^ 

H^ 

3.2 

3.4 

1^ 

4.0 

m 

liil^l^ 


^     APPLIED  IIVMGE     Inc 


1653  East  Main  Street 


THE  GAU>      GRAY  WOLF 


By  DILLON  WALLACE 

Tli«G»untGt»yiroB,  llluilrited.  umo, 
"""' Nel»i.35 

neart  of  Labrador  which  rcaultid  in  tha  d*ath 
of  Laonidu,  Hubbard.  Jr.  "uniava  S^h" 
Jara    makaa  a    walcoi.    raappMranoa     and 

U  i«»v»  Bob- A  T»l«  of  tlu  Fuf  Ti»o- 

tm.    Illustrated ™ .  Net  Jrij 

the  ino«  anxagliiK  of  the  aort  I  taava  avar  raad 
It  li  an  honaat  atory,  but  aa  aDDaallnV  in  th. 

"^  ^"«  "f  ^  Ubndor  •WU.     The 

Mory  of  the  Exploring  Expedition  con- 
ducted by  Leonidas  Hubbard,  Jr.  Illus- 
trations and  Maps.    8vo,  cloth. 

Net»i.5o 

..j^  ""V  P'oduced  one  of  tha  moat  (ranhlc 
and  moving  alorlea  of  adventure  that  w.  have 

matlcand  devout  as  It  a  pathetic.  Here  lea 
o(';°„'«.hI;' ^<'■<'•  °".  ••  action ".^verwou'd* 
fdA^^JlV"?  n*S't  *"''  heroiam  shown,  for  an 


"They    were    startled    liv 
dozen  Indians,  guns 


l.lood-curdlinK    who„ps.    and    a    half- 
leiellfd.  rose  upon  the  shore" 


Caunt  Gniy  W^Ai' 


'.;  A:-  ■.  >!thrc  .citr  ■    I  p;f,,^_-a  i;.J, 


^'-   i^u;'t<-d 


^■■•-a!r>,ii    n.    a:\a!    ,^,!lH,an^ 


A  ■.-  /!  h  '■!  '   r  r  ((-, 


%^5«^Jii 


..!-.rr,:!;,^    ,.  I 


The  Gaunt  Gray  Wolf 

A  Tale  of  Adventure  with  "  Ungava  Bob  " 


BY 


DILLON  WALLACE 

Author  of  "  The  Lure  of  the  Labrador  Wild," 
"Ungava  Bob,"  etc.,  etc. 


Illustrated 


Niw  ToRx        Cricaoo        Toronto 

Fleming  H.  Revell  Company 

LoxDOK         iuD         EoiNauaoH 


Copyright,  1914,  by 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


New  York:  158  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago:  125  N.  Wabash  Ave. 
Toronto:  25  Richmond  St.,  W. 
London:  it  Paternoster  Square 
Edinburgh:  100  Princei  Street 


0   900503 


I. 

n. 

m. 

IV. 

V. 

VI. 

vn, 
vin. 

IX. 

X. 
XL 

xn. 
xin. 

XIV. 
XV. 


CONTENTS 

Shad  Tbowbbidoe  op  Boston 
The  Lube  op  the  Wildebness  . 
Ungava  Bob  Makes  A  Rescue  . 
Away  to  the  Tbaos 
In  the  Fab  Wildebness 
Old  Fbiends  .... 

Whebb     the     Evil     Spibtts 
Dwell 

Apteb  the  Indun  Attack 

The   Indian   Maiden  at  the 
Biveb  Tilt  . 

The  Voices  op  the  Spirits 

Manikawan's  Vengeance 

The  Tbaoedy  op  the  Raptos   . 

On  the  Trail  op  the  Indians  . 

The  Matohi  Manitu  Is  Cheat- 
ed      ..        _ 

The    Passing    op    the    Wild 
Things 


9 

17 
31 
48 
65 
79 

84 
98 

112 
122 
131 
139 
152 


165 
180 


6 

XVI. 
XVII. 

xvin. 

XIX. 

XX. 

XXI. 

XXII. 

XXIII. 

xxrv. 

XXV. 
XXVI. 

xxvn. 
xxvin. 

XXIX. 


CONTENTS 

Alone  with  the  Indians 

ChbISTMAS  at   the  Eiveb   TttT 

The  Spibit  op  Death  Gbows 
Bold  . 

The  Cache  on  the  Lake 
The  Folk  at  Wolf  Bioht 
The  Eipled  Cache 

Manika WAN's  Sacrifice  . 

Tumbled  Aib  Castles 

The  Messengee 

A  Mission  op  Life  and  Death  . 

"  Qbeateb  Love  Hath  No  Man 
Than  This  "      . 

Shad's  Tbibute  to  the  Indun 

Maiden 

Tbowbbtoge  and  Gbay,  Tbadebs 

The   Fbuit   op    Manikawan's 
Sacbifice 


190 
197 

207 
215 
227 
239 

248 

255 

269 

274 

279 

286 
295 


309 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


n. 
in. 

IV. 
V. 


VI. 

vn 


"THEy    WERE   STARTLED  BY   BLOOD-CURD-    '"' 

iKm.J^""*"'''  ^"^  ""  HALF-DOZEN 
INDIANS,  GUNS  LEVELLED,  ROSE  UPON 
THE   shore" 

Frcniupitc* 


Ungava  Bob  .. 

„_,   ,  32 

Don  T  MAKE  SUCK  A  BIG  FIRe" fig 

"She  stood  motionless  as  a  statue"  . .  114 
"Shooting  past  them,  paddling  with 

THE  desperation  OF  MEN  FACING 
DOOM,  WERE  THE  INDIANS  THAT 
MANIKAWAN  HAD  SENT  ADRIFT" 14$ 

"The  Indians  discussed  the  matter 

AT   SOME  LENGTH"    ....  "'^"ER 

*'*" ^94 

'He    FELL    TO    HIS    KNEE,    AIMED   CARE- 
FULLY AND  PULLED  THE  TRIGGER"  ....    245 

VIII.  "Then  they  parted,  Mookoomahn  to 
TURN  Northward  in  his  long  and 

LONELY  journey  TO  JOIN  HIS  PEOPLE"  310 


SHAD  TROWBRIDGE  OF  BOSTON 

ON  a  foggy  morning  of  early  July  in  the 
year  1890,  the  Labrador  mail  boat, 
northward  bound  from  St.  Johns,  felt 
her  way  oautionsly  into  the  mist-enveloped 
harbour  of  Fort  PeUoan  and  to  her  anchorage. 
For  six  days  the  little  steamer  had  been 
buffeted  by  wind  and  ice  and  fog,  and  when  at 
last  her  engines  ceased  to  throb  and  she  lay 
at  rest  in  harbour,  Allen  Shradrach  Trow- 
bridge of  Boston,  her  only  passenger,  fel; 
hugely  relieved,  for  the  voyage  had  been  a 
most  unpleasant  one,  and  here  he  was  to  dis- 
embark. 

In  June,  Allen  Shadrach  Trowbridge— or 
"Shad"  Trowbridge  as  the  fellows  called 
him,  and  as  we  shall  call  him— had  completed 
his  freshman  year  in  college.  When  college 
closed  he  set  sail  at  once  for  Labrador,  where 
he  was  to  spend  his  summer  holiday  canoeing 
and  fishing  in  the  wilderness. 


10  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

This  was  the  first  extended  journey  Shad 
Trowbridge  had  ever  made  quite  alone.  For 
many  months  he  had  been  planning  and  pre- 
paring for  it,  and  he  promised  himself  it  was 
to  be  an  eventful  experience. 

He  was  standing  now  at  the  rail,  as  the  ship 
anchored,  peering  eagerly  through  the  mist  at 
the  group  of  low,  whitewashed  buildings  which 
composed  Fort  Pelican  post  of  the  Hudson's 
Bay  Company,  and  at  the  dim  outline  of  dark 
forest  behind-a  clean-cut,  square-shouldered, 
athletic  young  fellow,  who  carried  his  head 
with  the  air  of  one  ].  -ssessing  a  fair  share  of 
self-esteem  and  self-reliance,  and  whose  square 
jaw  suggested  wilfulness  if  not  determina- 
tion. 

The  rugged  surroundings  thrilled  him  with 
promise  of  adventure.  The  historic  post  of 
the  old  fur  traders,  the  boundless,  mysterious 
forest,  and  the  romantic  Ufe  of  the  trappers 
and  dusky  tribes  which  it  sheltered,  were  preg- 
nant with  interest.  But  his  wildest  dreams 
could  not  have  foretold  the  part  Shad  Trow- 
bridge was  destined  to  play  in  this  primordial 
land  and  Ufe  before  he  shonlj  oid  fareweU  to 
its  bleak  coast. 


SHAD  THOVVBHIDGE  OF  BOSTON      U 

"  A  rough-looking  country,"  remarked  the 
steward,  joining  Shnl  at  the  rail. 

"It's  glorious  1  oxclaimed  Shad  enthusias- 
tically. "A  real  frontier  I  And  back  there  is 
a  real  wilderness  I  Just  the  sort  of  wilder- 
ness I've  dreamed  about  getting  into  all  my 
life." 

"  The  deck  of  the  mail  boat's  about  as  near 
as  I  want  to  get  to  it,"  said  the  steward  with 
a  deprecatory  shiug.  "  It's  a  land  o'  hard 
knocks  and  short  grub.  You'd  better  leave  it 
to  the  livyeres  and  Indians,  young  luan,  and  go 
back  to  God's  country  with  the  ship." 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  Shad.  "I'm  going 
to  have  a  rattling  good  summer  hunting  and 
fishing  here  before  I  see  the  ship  again." 

"  When  we  come  on  our  next  voyage,  a  fort- 
night from  now,  you'll  be  standing  out  there 
on  the  dock  looking  for  us,  and  mighty  glad  to 
see  us,"  laughed  the  steward.  "  You'll  have 
all  you  want  of  The  Labrador  by  then.  Shall 
I  put  your  things  ashore!  " 

"  Yes,  if  you  please— all  but  the  canoe.   I'll 
paddle  that  over,  if  you'll  send  a  man  to  help 
me  launch  it. ' ' 
"  Pooh!  "  thought  Shad,  as  the  steward  left 


"  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

Wm.    "' Hard  knocks  and  ,hortgn,b 'I    Of 
course  there  would  be  some  hard  Cts  bn 

iM  ?nr;:;jjr' ""  -^  ^^  ^-^ »°  ^-S 

W'^K         ^'  ^°°''''  '""  »'  «««'«  and  fish 
^e- dbe  plenty  .0  eat,   Hedidn.  expect  anV 

h^e/maVktd'^rf''-^^'''''^ '''»*-' 
taicehim^orat:;         '^'^'''^^^^^"'^ 
watheS'it?"  ""*'""''  •"•  ^J-^  »««'*  wharf 
ttretch  of  beach  adjoining  the  wharf,  and  two 
ofthem  strolled  down  to  inspect  his  canl 
when  he  lifted  it  out  of  the  water  and  turned 

Sw  Ir  !  *•"'  '''*-^''«''  JooBe-joint;] 
esquely  attired  ,n  moleskin  trousers  tucked 

a  ^slK,rt  ,acke,  and  the  peakless  cap  of  the' 

beUe?n'\;!'\^:^''"°'»-°"'^-ful  sight 

3ere^   H        f '"'  *  P"^""-'"''   b^ad-shonl- 
dered,  deep-chested  man,  who  wore  a  lighi 


SHAD  TROWBRIDGE  OP  BOSTON      18 

cloth  adicky,  but  whose  dress  r/as  othenrise 
■imilar  to  that  of  his  companioF. 

"She  have  better  lines  t!ian  tb'  Injun 
craft,"  said  the  one  addresgpd  as  Ed,  eyeing 
the  canoe  critically. 

"An'  she's  stancher— a  wonderful  lot 
Btancher,"  continued  the  other. 

"  She  is  a  pretty  good  canoe,  and  a  splendid 
white- water  craft,"  Shad  remarked,  to  break 
the  ice  of  reserve,  and  to  give  the  two  trappers 
the  opening  for  conversation  for  which  they 
were  evidently  hedging. 

"  Aye,  sir,"  said  the  man  in  the  adicky, 
"  they's  no  doot  o'  that.  Her  lines  be  right, 
sir.  She'd  be  a  fine  craft  in  th'  rapids,  now— 
a  fine  un." 

"  Be  you  comin'  far,  an'  be  you  goin'  back 
wi'  th'  shipT  "  asked  Ed,  unable  to  restrain 
his  curiosity  longer. 

"  I  came  from  Bo8ti.n,  and  if  I  can  get  a 
guide  I  Bhall  stay  for  the  summer  and  take  a 
canoe  trip  into  the  country,"  answered  Shad. 
"I'm  thinkin*  you  can  get  un  in  th'  shop," 
suggested  Ed. 

"  Get  them  in  the  shopT  "  asked  Shad,  in 
astonishment,  not  quite  certain  whether  he  was 


14  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

misunderstood,  or  whether  the  trapper  was 
mahng  game  of  him.  Ed 's  respectful  manner 
however,  quickly  satisfied  him  that  the  former 
was  the  case. 

"Aye,"  said  Ed.  "  They  keeps  a  wonder- 
ful stock  o'  things  in  the  shop." 

"  I  refer  to  a  man,"  explained  Shad  "  I 
wish  to  employ  a  man  to  go  into  the  country 
with  me  to  show  me  about  and  to  assist 
me.  ' 

''  'Tis  a  pilot  you  wants!  "  exclaimed  Ed 
iight  breaking  upon  him.  ' 

"0'  course  'tis  a  pilot  I  "  broke  in  the  other 
with  an  intonation  that  suggested  scorn  of 
Ee  s  Ignorance.    "  A  pilot  an'  a  guide  be  th' 

TpTot^'"^'    ^  """*  •"  '  ^^''  ''''  ^  «^^^'  ^' 
"I'd  like  wonderful  well  V  pilot  you  my- 
self  sin  but  I  couldn't  do  it  nohow,"  volun- 
teered Ed,  in  a  tone  of  apology.    '"  You  see,  I 
has  my  nets  out,  an'  I  has  t'  get  in  firewood  for 
th   wife  t'  last  she  through  th'  winter  whilst 
I  be  on  th'  trail  trappin'.   An  Dick  here's  fixed 
th   same.    Dick  an'  me's  partners  fishin',  an' 
he  gives  me  a  hand  gettin'  out  wood,  an'  I 
helps  he.    This  be  Dick  Blake,  sir,"  continued 


SHAD  TROWBRIDGE  OF  BOSTON  15 
Ed,  suddenly  remembering  that  there  had  been 
no  introduction,  "  an'  I  be  Ed  Matheson." 

"  I'm  glad  to  make  your  acquaintance,  gen- 
tlemen,"  Shad  acknowledged.  "  My  name  is 
Trowbridge.  Perhaps  you  may  be  able  to  tell 
me  where  I  can  employ  a  guide.  I  would  ap- 
preciate your  assistance." 

"  Le'me  see,"  Ed  meditated.  "  Now  I'm 
thinkin'  Ungava  Bob  might  go,"  he  at  length 
suggested.  "  He  were  home  th'  winter,  an' 
they  hauled  a  rare  lot  o'  wood  out  wi '  th'  dogs 
an'  his  father  can  'tend  th'  nets.  What  d'you 
think,  Dick?  " 

"  Aye,  Ungava  Bob  could  sure  go,  what- 
ever," agreed  Dick. 

"  '  Ungava  Bob  '  sounds  interesting,"  said 
Shad.  "  How  old  a  man  is  this  Ungava  Bob, 
and  18  that  his  real  name,  or  is  '  Ungava  '  a 

"  He's  but  a  lad-eighteen  year  old  comin' 
September-but  a  rare  likely  lad-good  as  a 
man.    Aye,  good  as  a  man,"  declared  Ed. 

"His  real  name  be  Bob  Gray,"  explained 
Dick,  '  but  we  calls  him  '  Ungava  Bob  '  for 
a  wonderful  cruise  he  were  makin'  two  year 
ago  comin'  winter." 


1«  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

"  Seventeen  years  of  age,  and  already  so  fa- 
mous as  to  have  won  a  title!    I'm  interested, 
and  I'd  like  to  hear  more  about  him,"  smr 
gested  Shad.  ^ 

"  ^°'  y°"  ^a°ts  t'  hear,"  said  Ed.  "  But 
now  we  be  a-standin'  an'  a-keepin'  you,  when 
you  wants  t'  see  Mr.  Forbes." 

''  Yes  I  wish  to  see  Mr.  Forbes,  if  he  is  the 
factor  of  the  post,  but  you  haven't  detained 
me  m  the  least.  I  can  see  him  presently,"  re- 
assured Shad. 

"  Mr.  Forbes  be  wonderful  busy  till  th'  shin 
goes,  an'  she'll  be  here  for  nigh  an  hour  yet '' 
advised  Ed.  ^    ' 

"  Very  well,  I'll  not  call  on  him,  then,  till 
the  ship  goes,"  decided  Shad, "  and  I'd  be  glad 
to  hear  something  of  Ungava  Bob's  travels, 
m  the  meantime." 

"  We  might  step  into  th'  men's  kitchen, 
where  there  be  seats  an'  we  can  talk  in  com- 
fort  'suggested  Ed.    "  This  fog  be  wonderful 
chiUm'  standin'  still." 
"That's  a  good  suggestion,"  agreed  Shad. 
The  fog  ,8  cold."    And  he  followed  the  two 
trappers  down  the  long  board  walk  to  the 
men's  kitchen. 


n 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 

UNGAVA  BOB  ^  father's  name  be  Rich- 
ard Gray,"  began  Ed,  while  he  cut  to- 
bacco from  a  black  plug  and  stuffed  it 
into  his  pipe,  when  they  were  presently  seated 
m  the  men's  kitchen.  "  Dick's  name,  here,  be 
Richard,  too,  but  we  calls  he  '  Dick,'  and  Rich- 
ard Gray  '  Richard,'  so's  not  t'  get  un  mixed 
up.  You  see,  if  we  calls  un  both  '  Dick  '  or 
both  '  Richard,'  we'd  never  be  knowin'  who 
'twas  were  meant." 
"  I  see,"  said  Shad. 

"  Well,  Richard  were  bavin'  a  wond(  il 
streak  o'  bad  luck,"  continued  Ed,  striking  a 
match  and  holding  it  aloft  for  the  sulphur  to 
buni  off,  "  wonderful  hard  luck.  His  fur- 
rin'  fails  he  two  years  runnin',  an'  then 
th'  fishin'  fails  he,  an'  his  debt  wi'  th' 
Company  gets  so  big  he's  two  year  behind, 
whatever,  th'  best  he  does."  Ed  paused 
to  apply  the  match  t 


I  pipe. 


17 


18  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


you    ever    noticin',    Mr.     Too- 


"  Were 
bridge 

"  Titmbridge,"  corrected  Dick. 

"  Be  it '  Toobridge  '  or '  Tumbridge,'  sirT  " 
asked  Ed,  unwilling  to  accept  Dick's  correo- 
tion. 

"  Trowbridge." 

"  Leastways  Toobridge  were  nigher  right 
than  Tumbridge,"  declared  Ed,  looking  dis- 
dainfully at  Dick.    "  Were  you  ever  noticin' 
how  bad  luck,  when  she  strikes  a  man's  trail 
follows  him  like  a  pack  o'  hungry  wolves! 
Well,  just  at  th'  time  I'm  speakJn '  about,  Rich- 
ard's little  maid  Emily  falls  oft  a  ledge  an' 
hurts  she  so  she  can't  walk.    They  tries  all 
th'  cures  they  knows,  but  't  weren".  no  good, 
an'  then  they  brings  Emily  here  t'  Pelican,  t' 
see  th'  mail-boat  doctor  when  th'  ship  comes. 
"  Th'  mail-boat  doctor  tells  nn  th'  only  cure 
is  t'  take  she  t'  th'  hospital  in  St.  Johns,  an' 
so  they  fetches  Emily  back  t'  Wolf  Bight,  for 
a  trip  t'  St.  Johns  takes  a  wonderful  lo't  o' 
money,  an'  Richard  ain't  got  un, 

"  Bob  thinks  a  wonderful  lot  o'  Emily.  He 
be  only  sixteen  then,  but  a  rare  big  an'  stal- 
wart lad  for  his  years,  an'  unbeknown  t'  Fich- 


THE  LUHE  OP  THE  WILDERNESS     19 

ard  an'  his  ma  he  goes  t'  Douglas  Campbell, 

an' says  t' Douglas,  an' he  lets  he  work  th' 
Big  Hill  trail  on  shares  th'  winter,  he's 
thinkm'  he  may  ha'  th'  luck  f  trap  a  silver 
fox,  an'  leastways  fur  t'  pay  f  send  Emily  f 
th'  hospital."  ' 

•'  Who  is  Douglas  Campbell?  "  asked  Shad. 
Oh,  c  .17  one  knows  he,  an  •  a  rare  old  man 
he  be  Ho  comes  t'  th'  Bay  from  th'  Orkneys 
mgh  forty  year  ago,  workin'  as  servant  for 
th  Company,  an'  then  leavin'  th'  Company  f 
go  trappin'.  He  done  wonderful  well,  buyin' 
traps  an'  openin'  new  trails,  which  he  lets  out 

on  shares.    Th' Big  Hill  trail  up  th'  Grand 
±tiver  were  a  new  one. 

''  Well,  Bob  goes  in  wi'  me  an'  Dick  an' 
Bill  Campbell,  Douglas's  lad,  we  workin'  con- 
nectin'  trails,  an'  he  done  fine.  He  starts  right 
m  ca  chin'  martens  an'  silver  foxes-a  won- 

derful  lot  for  a  lad " 

"  He  only  catches  one  silver,  barrin'  th'  one 
after  he  were  lost!  "  broke  in  Dick.  "  Now 
don't  go  yamin',  Ed." 

"  Leastways,  he  gets  one  silver  an'  a  rare 
lot  0'  martens  an'  otters  up  f  Christmas,  an' 
a  plenty  t'  send  Emily  f  th'  hospital 


«0  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

"  Then  Micmac  John— he  were  a  thievin' 
half-breed  as  asks  Douglas  for  th'  Big  Hill 
trail,  an'  feels  a  grudge  ag'in'  Bob  because 
Douglas  give  un  t'  Bob— Micmac  goes  in  an' 
steals  Bob's  tent  when  Bob  were  up  country 
after  deer.  A  snow  comin'  on— 'twere  won- 
derful cold— Bob  gives  out  tryin'  t'  find  his 
tilt,  an'  falls  down,  an'  loses  his  senses.  When 
he  wakes  up  he's  in  a  Nascaupee  Injun  tent, 
th'  Injuns  comin'  on  he  where  he  falls  an' 
takin '  he  with  un. 

"  Bob  not  knowin'  th'  lingo  they  speaks,  an' 
they  not  knowin'  his  lingo,  an'  he  not  knowin' 
how  far  they  took  he  before  he  wakes  up,  or 
rightly  how  t'  find  his  tilt,  he  sticks  t'  the'  In- 
juns, an'  they  keeps  workin'  north  till  they 
comes  t'  Ungava." 

"  A  wonderful  trip  that  werel  A  wonder- 
ful trip !  No  man  in  th'  Bay  w:  re  ever  t'  Un- 
gava before,  so  we  calls  he  '  Ungava  Bob,'  " 
interrupted  Dick. 

"  Then  Bob  works  'cross  th'  nu'th'ard  coun- 
try with  huskies,"  continued  Ed,  "  an'  up  th' 
coast  with  huskies,  until  he  goes  adrift  on  th' 
ice — him  an'  his  two  huskies  he  has  with  he— 
an'  when  they  thinks  they's  lost,  or  like  t' 


THE  LUBE  OP  THE  WILDERNESS  M 
be  lost,  they  comes  on  a  tradin'  vessel  froze 
in  th'  ice  an'  loaded  wi'  tradin'  goods  an'  furs, 
an'  not  e'er  a  man  aboard  she.  Bob  an'  th' 
huskies  sails  th'  vessel  in  here,  when  th'  ice 
breaks  up,  an'  th'  ship  goes  free, 

"  That  were  just  one  year  ago.  Me  an' 
Dick  gets  out  from  th'  trails  th'  day  Bob  gets 
home,  an'  Douglas  goin'  with  us,  we  sails  th' 
vessel,  which  were  '  The  Maid  o'  the  North,' 
t'  St.  Johns,  an'  Bob  gets  fifteen  thousand  dol- 
lars salvage  money.  A  rare  lot  o'  money,  sir, 
that  were  for  any  man  t'  have,  let  alone  a 
lad." 

"  What  happened  to  the  little  girl— his  sis- 
ter T  "  asked  Shad. 

"  She  goes  t'  th'  hospital,  an'  comes  back 
t'  Wolf  Bight  in  September,  cured  an'  fine. 
She  be  a  fine  little  maid,  too— a  fine  little 
maid,"  Ed  asserted. 

"  What  was  done  to  the  half-breed  Indian 
— Micmac  John,  I  think  you  called  himt  " 

"  MicmacT  Oh,  he  were  killed  by  wolves 
handy  f  th'  place  th'  Injuus  finds  Bob.  Me, 
wi'  Bill  an'  Dick,  here,  goes  lookin'  for  Bob 
an'  finds  Micmac 's  bones  where  th'  wolves 
scatters  un,  an'  handy  to  ul  is  Bob's  flatsled. 


««  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

an'  thinkin'  they's  Bob's  remains  I  hauls  un 
out  in  th'  winter,  an'  his  folks  buries  un 
proper  for  his  remains  before  he  gets  out  in 
th'  spring." 

"What  an  experience  for  a  kid  I"  ex- 
claimed Shad.  "  He  must  have  had  some  rat- 
tling  adventures?  " 

"  Aye,  that  he  did,"  said  Ed.  "  'Twould  be 
a  long  story  f  tell  un  all,  -but  there  were  one. 
now " 

"  Now  don't  go  yamin',  Ed,"  interrupted 
Dick,  who  had  stepped  out  of  doors  and  re- 
turned at  this  moment.    "  Ed  never  tells  un 
straight,  Mr.  Trunbridge." 
"  Troobridge,"  broke  in  Ed. 
"  Trowbridge,"  volunteered  Shad. 
"  Mr.  Trowbridge,"  continued  Dick.    "  He 
makes  un  a  lot  worse 'n  Bob  tells  un.    Fog's 
clearin',  Ed,  an'  we  better  be  goin'  after  we 
eats  dinner." 

"That  we  had,  an'  the  fog's  clearin'" 
agreed  Ed.  ' 

"But  how  about  Ungavi  Bob?  I'd  like  to 
meet  him.  Do  you  really  think  I  may  be  able 
to  engage  him  to  guide  me  on  a  two  or  three 
weeks'  trip?  "  asked  Shad. 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS    SS 

"Aye,"  said  Ed.  "  I'm  thinkin',  now,  you 
might.  Bob's  not  startin'  for  th'  trails  for 
three  weeks,  whatever,  an-  he's  bidin'  home 
tiil  he  goes,  an'  not  wonderful  busy.  I'm 
thinkin'  Bob  could  go." 

"  That  settles  it,"  Shad  decided.  "I'll 
look  him  up." 

"  You'll  be  welcome  t'  a  place  in  our  boat  " 
suggested  Dick.  '•  Tis  a  two-days'  sail,  w'i' 
fair  wind.  They's  plenty  o'  room,  an'  we 
can  tow  th'  canoe.  Me  an'  Ed  lives  at  Porcu- 
pine Cove,  an'  you  can  paddle  th'  canoe  over 
from  there  t'  Wolf  Bight  in  half  a  day,  what- 
ever." 

"Done I"  exclaimed  Shad. 

With  the  assurance  of  Mr.  James  Forbes, 
the  factor,  that  the  rivers  flowing  into  the 
head  of  the  Bay,  a  hundred  miles  inland  from 
Fort  Pelican,  offered  good  canoe  routes,  Shad 
felt  that  a  kind  fate  had  indeed  directed 
him  to  Fort  Pelican,  and  that  he  had  been 
particularly  fortunate  in  meeting  the  two 
trappers. 

"  Bob  Gray  will  be  a  good  man  for  yon  if 
you  can  engage  him,  and  I  think  you  can  " 
said  Mr.  Forbes.    "  Bob  has  had  some  truly 


n 


«4  THE  GAUNT  GR  \y  WOLF 

remarkable  adventures,  and  he's  an  interest- 
ing  chap.  Ed  Matheson  will  probably  relate 
these  adventures  to  you,  properly  embellished, 
if  you  go  up  the  Bay  with  him  and  Dick  Blake. 
Take  Ed's  stories,  though,  with  a  grain  of  salt. 
He  is  a  good  trapper,  but  he  hag  a  vivid  im- 
agination." 

Shad  accepted  Mr.  Forbes 'g  invitation  to 
dine  in  the  "  big  house,"  as  the  factor's  resi- 
dence was  called,  and  when,  after  dinner,  Mr. 
Forbes  accompanied  him  to  the  wharf,  the 
trappers  had  already  stowed  his  outfit  into 
their  boat,  and  the  two  men  were  awaiting  his 
arrival.  No  time  was  lost  in  getting  away. 
Sail  was  hoisted  at  once,  and  with  Shad's 
canoe  in  tow  the  boat  turned  westward  into 
the  narrows  that  connect  Eskimo  Bay  with  the 
ocean. 

"  Th'  wind's  shifted  t'  nu'th'ard,  and  when 
we  gets  through  th'  narrows  there'll  be  no 
fog,"  Dick  prophesied,  and  his  prophecy 
proved  true.  Presently  the  sky  cleared,  the 
sun  broke  through  the  mist,  the  freshening 
north  wind  swept  away  the  last  lingering  fog 
bank,  and  as  a  curtain  rises  upon  a  scene,  jo 
the  lifting  fog  revealed  to  Shad  Trowbridge 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  »5 
the  weird,  primitive  beauty  of  the  rugged 
northland  that  he  was  entering. 

The  atmosphere,  so  lately  clogged  with  mist, 
had  suddenly  become  transparent.  To  the 
floutbward,  beyond  a  broad  stretcii  of  gently 
heaving  waters,  rose  a  range  of  snow-capped 
mountains,  extending  far  to  the  westward 
Reaching  up  from  the  nearby  northern  shore 
of  the  bay,  and  stretching  away  over  gently 
rolling  hills  lay  the  boundless  evergreen 
forest. 

Somewhere  in  the  distance  a  wild  goose 
honked.  White-winged  gulls  soared  grace- 
fully overhead.  Now  and  again  a  seal  rose  to 
gaze  for  an  inquisitive  moment  at  the  passing 
boat,  and  once  a  flock  of  ducks  settled  upon 
the  waters.  The  air  was  redolent  with  the 
pungent  odour  of  spruce  and  balsam  fir-the 
perfume  of  the  forest-and  Shad,  lounging 
contentedly  at  the  bow  of  the  boat,  drank  in 
great  wholesome  lungfuls  of  it. 

All  this  was  commonplace  to  the  trappers 
and  quite  unmindful  of  it  Fd  Matheson 
launched  upon  tales  of  stirring  wilderness  ad- 
ventures in  which  his  imagination  was  unre- 


«6  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

strained,  save  by  an  occasional  expostulation 
from  Dick. 

The  wild  region  through  which  they  were 
passing  gave  proper  setting  for  Ed's  stories, 
and  Shad,  a  receptive  listener,  wished  that  he, 
too,  might  battle  with  nature  as  these  men 
did.  How  tame  and  uneventful  his  own  life 
seemed.  Already  the  sul  3  lure  of  the  wil- 
derness was  asserting  itself. 

Three  days  after  leaving  Fort  Pelican,  Shad 
and  the  two  trappers  sailed  their  dory  into 
Porcupine  Cove.  It  was  mid-afternoon,  and 
Shad,  impatient  to  reach  Wolf  Bight  and  be- 
gin his  explorations  in  company  with  Ungava 
Bob,  prepared  for  immediate  departure,  after 
a  bountiful  dinner  of  boiled  grouse,  bread,  and 
tea  in  Dick  Blake's  cabin. 

"  Better  'bide  wi'  me  th'  evenin',"  invited 
Dick,  "an'  take  an  early  start  in  th'  mornin'. 
Th'  wind's  veered  t'  th'  nor '-nor 'west,  an' 
she's  like  t'  kick  up  some  chop  th'  evenin',  an' 
'tis  a  full  half -day's  cruise  t'  Wolf  Bight, 
whatever. ' ' 

"  I  can  make  it  all  right,"  insisted  Shad. 
"  Bob  may  not  be  able  to  give  me  much  time, 


THE  LURE  OP  THE  WILDERNESS    «7 

and  I  want  to  take  advantage  of  all  he  can 
give  me." 

"  ■VV'ell,  if  you  most  be  goin',  I'd  not  hinder 
7on;  but,"  continned  Diclt,  "  keep  dogt  f 
shore,  until  you  reaches  that  p'int  yonder,  an' 
then  make  th'  crosnin-  for  th'  south  shore, 
keepin'  that  blue  mountain  peak  just  off  your 
starboard  bow,  aa'  you  can't  be  missin'  Wolf 
B.ght.  If  th'  wind  freshens,  camp  on  th'  p'int, 
an  wait  for  calm  t'  make  th'  crossin'  t'  th' 
s'uth'ard  shore." 

"Thank  you,  I'll  follow  your  advice,"  said 
onad. 

"  ^"!''  ^°'^'"  <=»"ed  Ed,  who  had  disap- 
peared  into  the  cabin,  and  reappeared  with  a 
rope.  "  I'm  thinkin'  I'll  lash  your  outfit  t' 
th  canoe.  They's  no  knowin'  what's  like  t' 
Happen,  an'  'tis  best  t'  be  sure,  whatever  " 

Shad  felt  truly  grateful  to  the  two  bronzed 
trappers  as  he  shook  their  hands  and  said 
adieu  to  them.  It  was  only  his  impatience  to 
plunge  into  the  deep  forests  reaching  away  to 
the  westward,  and  a  growing  curiosity  to  meet 
Ungava  Bob,  that  induced  him  to  decline  the 
sincerely  extended  hospitality  of  Blake  and 
Matheson. 


98  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

Afternoon  was  waning  into  evening  when 
Shad  reached  the  point  Dick  had  indicated, 
and  the  rising  breeze  was  beginning  to  whip 
the  wave  crests  here  and  there  into  white 
foam. 

Dick  Blake  had  advised  him  to  camp  here 
if  the  wind  increased.  It  had  increased  con- 
siderably, but  Shad  had  set  his  heart  upon 
reaching  Wolf  Bight  that  night,  and  he  did 
not  wish  to  stop.  The  sun  was  setting,  but 
there  was  to  be  a  full  moon,  and  he  would  be 
able  to  see  nearly  as  well  as  by  day.  The  sea, 
though  a  little  rougher  than  it  had  been  dur- 
ing the  afternoon,  was  not,  after  all,  he  argued, 
so  bad. 

"I'll  make  a  try  for  it,  anyhow;  I  know  I 
can  make  it,"  said  he,  after  a  little  hesitation, 
and  turning  his  back  upon  the  point  he  pad- 
dled on. 

Presently,  however,  he  began  to  regret  his 
decision.  With  the  setting  sun  the  wind  in- 
creased perceptibly.  The  sea  grew  uncom- 
fortably rough.  Little  by  Uttle  the  canoe  b&- 
gan  to  ship  water,  and  with  every  moment  the 
situation  became  more  perilous. 


THE  LUHE  OF  THE  WILDERNE=e  30 
Now,  genuinely  alarmed,  Shad  ma.e  n  vain 
attempt  to  turn  about,  in  the  hope  lint  ro 
might  gain  the  lee  of  the  point  and  effect  a 
andmg  But  it  was  too  late.  He  quickly 
found  that  it  was  quite  impossible  to  stem 
the  wind,  and  he  had  no  choice  but  to  continue 
upon  his  course. 

With  full  realization  of  his  desperate  posi- 
tion Shad  paddled  hard  and  paddled  for 
fiis  iite.  He  was  a  good  swimmer,  but  he 
knew  ^ell  that  were  his  canoe  to  capsize  he 
could  not  hope  to  survive  long  in  these  cold 
waters. 

The  canoe  was  gradually  filling  ^th  water, 
but  he  dared  not  release  his  paddle  to  bail  the 
water  out.  With  each  big  sea  that  bore  down 
upon  bm  he  held  his  breath  in  fear  that  it 
would  overwhelm  him. 

Nearer  and  nearer  the  south  shore  loomed 
m  the  moonlight,  and  with  every  muscle 
strained  Shad  paddled  for  it  with  all  his  might, 
n^he^uld  only  keep  afloat  another  twenty 

But  he  had  taken  too  desperate  a  chance, 
-as  goal  was  still  a  full  mile  away  when  a 


l\ 


30 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


great  wave  broke  over  the  canoe.  Then  came 
another  and  another  in  quick  succession,  and 
Shad  suddenly  found  himself  cast  into  the  sea, 
struggling  in  the  icy  waters,  hopelessly  far 
from  shore. 


in 

VmAVA  BOB  MAKES  A  RESCUE 

TWILIGHT  was  settling  into  gloom,  and 
the  first  faint  stars  were  struggling  to 
^^^^  themselves  above  the  distant  line 
of  dark  fir  and  spruce  trees  that  marked  the 
edge  of  the  forest  bordering  Eskimo  Bay 
Dark  cloud  patches  scudding  across  the  sky 
now  and  again  obscured  the  face  of  the  rising 
moon.    A  brisk  northwest  breeze  was  blowing 
and  though  it  was  mid-July  the  air  had  gro;^' 
chill  with  the  setting  of  the  sun 

Ungava  Bob,  alone  in  his  boat,  arose,  but- 
toned  h,s  jacket,  trimmed  sail,  and  by  force  of 
habit  stood  with  his  left  hand  resting  upon  the 
tiller  while  he  scanned  the  moonlit  waters  of 
the  bay  before  resuming  his  seat. 

He  was  a  tall,  square-shouldered,  well- 
developed  lad  of  seventeen,  straight  and  lithe 
as  an  Indian,  with  keen,  gray-blue  eyes,  which 
seemed  ever  alert  and  observant.  Exposure 
to  sun  and  wind  had  tamied  his  naturally  fair 

81 


82  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

skin  a  rich  bronze,  and  his  thick,  dark-brown 
hair,  with  a  tendency  to  curl  up  at  the  ends, 
where  it  fell  below  his  cap,  gave  his  round,  full 
face  an  appearance  of  boyish  innocence. 

He  was  now  homeward  bound  to  Wolf  Bight 
from  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company's  post  on 
the  north  shore,  where  he  had  purchased  a  sup- 
ply of  steel  traps  and  other  equipment  pre- 
paratory to  his  next  winter's  campaign  upon 
the  trapping  trails  of  the  far  interior  wilder- 
ness; for  Bob  Gray,  though  but  seventeen 
years  of  age,  was  already  an  experienced 
hunter  and  trapper. 

Suddenly,  as  he  looked  over  the  troabled  sea, 
a  small  black  object  rising  upon  the  crest  of  a 
wave  far  to  leeward  caught  his  eye.  The  small 
black  object  was  Shad's  canoe,  and  one  with 
less  keen  vision  might  have  passed  it  unno- 
ticed, or  seeing  it  have  supposed  it  belated 
debris  cast  into  the  bay  by  the  rivers,  for  the 
spring  floods  had  hardly  yet  fully  subsided. 
But  Bob's  training  as  a  hunter  taught  him  to 
take  nothing  for  granted,  and,  watching  iu- 
tently  for  its  reappearance  from  the  trough 
of  the  sea,  he  presently  discerned  in  the  moon- 
light the  faint  glint  of  a  paddle. 


w 


!  I 


Ungava   Roh 


UNGAVA  BOB  MAKES  A  RESCUE      33 

"  A  canoe  I  "  he  exclaimed,  as  he  sat  down. 
"An'  what,  now,  be  an  Injun  doin'  out  there 
this  time  o'  night t  An'  Injuns  never  crosses 
where  this  tm  be.  I'll  see,  now,  who  it  is,  an' 
what  he's  up  to,  whatever,"  and,  suiting  the 
action  to  the  resolve,  he  shifted  his  course  to 
bear  down  upon  the  stranger. 

The  hunter  instinctively  attributes  impor- 
tance to  every  sign,  sound,  or  action  that  is 
not  in  harmony  with  the  usual  routine  of  his 
world,  and  by  actual  investigation  he  must 
needs  satisfy  himself  of  its  meaning.  This  is 
not  idle  curiosity,  but  an  instinct  born  of 
necessity  and  life-long  training,  and  it  was 
this  instinct  that  prompted  Ungava  Bob's 
action  in  turning  from  his  direct  course  home- 
ward. 

"  'Tis  no  Injun,"  he  presently  said,  as  with 
a  nearer  approach  he  observed  the  stroke. 
"  'Tis  too  long  an'  slow  a  paddle-stroke." 

This  puzzled  him,  for  he  knew  well  every 
white  settler  of  the  Bay  within  a  hundred 
miles  of  his  home,  ana  he  knew,  too,  that  only 
some  extraordinary  mission  could  have  called 
one  of  them  abroad  so  late  in  the  evening,  and 
particularly  upon  the  course  this  canoe  wag 


84 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


taking  at  a  season  of  the  year  when  all  were 
employed  upon  their  fishing  grounds. 

Gradually  he  drew  down  upon  the  canoe,  un- 
til at  length  he  could  make  out  its  lines,  and 
observed  that  it  was  not  a  birch  bark,  the  only 
sort  of  canoe  in  use  in  the  Bay  by  either  In- 
dians or  white  natives.  The  canoeist,  too,  was 
a  stranger  in  the  region.  Of  this  he  had  no 
doubt,  though  he  could  not  see  his  features. 

He  was  well  within  hailing  distance,  though 
it  was  evident  the  stranger  in  the  canoe  had 
not  yet  discovered  his  approach,  when  a  black 
cloud  passed  over  the  face  of  the  moon,  plung- 
ing the  sea  into  darkness,  and  when  the  moon 
again  lighted  the  waters  canoe  and  canoeist 
had  vanished  as  by  magic. 

Like  a  flash,  realising  what  had  happened. 
Bob  seized  a  coil  of  rope,  made  one  end  fast 
to  the  stern  of  his  boat,  grasped  the  coil  in 
his  right  hand,  and,  tense  and  expectant, 
scanned  the  sea  for  the  reappearance  of  the 
unfortunate  stranger. 

Presently  he  discovered  the  submerged 
canoe  directly  ahead,  and  an  instant  later  saw 
Shad  rise  to  the  surface,  strike  out  for  it,  and 
catch  and  cling  to  the  gunwale. 


UNGAVA  BOB  MAKES  A  RESCUE   33 

Bob  poised  himself  for  the  effort,  and  as  he 
scudded  past,  measuring  the  distmoo  to  a 
nicety,  deftly  cast  the  line  directly  across  the 
canoe  and  within  the  reach  of  Shad's  hand, 
shouting  as  he  did  so : 
"  Make  un  fast!  " 

Without  looking  for  the  result,  he  sprang 
forward,  lowered  sail,  shipped  the  oars,  pulled 
the  boat  about,  and  Shad,  who  had  caught  the 
rope,  had  scarcely  time  to  thrust  it  under  a 
thwart  and   secure  it  before   Bob,   drawing 
alongside,  caught  him  by  the  collar  of  his  shirt 
and  hauled  him  aboard  the  boat.    Seizing  the 
oars  again,  and  pulling  safely  Tree  from  dan- 
ger of  collision  with  the  canoe.  Bob  I'oisted 
sail,  brought  the  boat  before  the  wind,  and 
resuming  his  seat  astern  had  his  first  good  look 
at  his  thus  suddenly  acquired  passenger. 

Shad,  amidships,  was  engaged  in  drawing 
off  his  outer  flannel  shirt,  from  which  he  coolly 
proceeded  to  wring,  as  thoroughly  as  possi- 
ble,  the  excess  water,  before  donning  it  again. 
Not  a  word  had  passed  between  them,  and 
neither  spoke  until  Shad  had  readjusted  his 
shirt,  when,  by  way  of  opening  conversation, 
Bob  remarked: 


86 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


"  You'm  wet,  sir." 

"  Naturally,"  admitted  Shad.  "  I've  been 
in  the  Bay,  and  the  bay  water  is  surpriaingly 
wet." 

"  Aye,"  agreed  Bob,  "  'tis  that." 

"  And  surprisingly  cold." 

"  Aye,  'tis  wonderful  cold." 

"  And  I'm  profoundly  grateful  to  yon  for 
pulling  me  out  of  it." 

"  'Twere  fine  I  comes  ia.  before  your  cauoe 
founders,  or  I'm  thinkin'  you'd  be  handy  t' 
drownded  by  now." 

"  A  sombre  thought,  but  I  guess  you're 
right.  A  fellow  couldn't  swim  far  or  stick  it 
out  long  in  there,"  said  Shad,  waving  his  arm 
toward  the  dark  waters.  "I'm  sure  I  owe  my 
life  to  you.  It  was  lucky  for  me  you  saw 
me." 

"  'T weren't  luck,  si»-;  'twere  Providence. 
'Twere  th'  Lord's  way  o'  takin'  care  o'  you." 

"  Well,  it  was  a  pretty  good  way,  anyhow. 
But  where  did  you  drop  fromt  I  didn't  see 
you  till  you  threw  me  that  line  a  few  minutes 
ago." 

"  I  were  passin'  t'  wind'ard,  sir,  when  I 
sights  you,  an'  not  knowin'  who   'twere,  I 


jj  i 


UNGAVA  BOB  MAKES  A  RESCUE  87 
sails  dose  in  till  I  makes  you  out  as  a 
stranger,  an'  then  yon  goes  down  an'  I  picks 
you  up." 

"  That  sounds  very  simple,  but  it  was  a  good 
stunt,  just  the  same,  to  get  me  the  line  and 
come  around  in  this  chop  the  way  you  did,  and 
then  haul  me  aboard  before  I  knew  what  you 
were  about-you  kept  your  head  beautifully, 
and  knew  what  to  do-and  you  only  a  kid, 
tool  "  added  Shad,  in  surprise,  as  the  moon- 
light fell  full  on  Bob's  face. 

"A— kidt"  asked  Bob,  not  quite  certain 
what  "  kid  "  might  be. 
"  Yes— just  a  youngster— a  boy." 
"I'm  seventeen,"  Bob  asserted,  in  a  tone 
which  resented  the  imputation  of  extreme 
youth.  "  You  don't  look  much  older 'n  that 
yourself." 

"But  I  am— much  older— I'm  eighteen," 
said  Shad,  grinning.  "  My  name's  Trow- 
bridge-Shad  Trowbridge,  from  Boston. 
What  is  your  name?  Let's  get  acquainted," 
and  Shad  extended  his  hand. 

"  I'm  Bob  Gray,  o'  Wolf  i.!^ht,"  said  Bob, 
taking  Shad's  hand. 

"  Not  Ungava  Bobf  "  exclaimed  Shad. 


88 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLP 


"  Aye,  they  calls  me  Ungava  Bob  here- 
abouts sometimes." 

"  Why,  I  was  on  my  way  to  Wolf  Bight  to 
see  you!  " 

"  T'seeme,  sirf  " 

"  Yes,  I  came  up  from  Fort  Pelican  to  Por- 
cupine Cove  with  two  trappers  named  Blake 
and  Matheson,  and  they  told  me  about  you. 
They  said  I  might  induce  you  to  take  a  trip 
with  rae." 

"  A  trip  with  you,  sirt  " 

"  Yes.  I  want  to  take  a  little  canoe  and  fish- 
ing trip  into  the  country,  and  Blake  and 
Matheson  suggested  that  yon  might  have  two 
or  three  weeks  to  spare  and  could  go  along 
with  me.  I'll  pay  you  well  for  your  services. 
What  do  you  think  of  it?  " 

"  I'm— not  just  knowin',"  Bob  hesitated. 
"  I  leaves  for  my  trappin'  grounds  th'  first 
o'  August  t'  be  gone  th'  winter,  an'— I'm 
thinkin'  I  wants  t'  stay  home  till  I  goes— an' 
my  folks '11  be  wantin'  me  home." 

"  Well,  let's  not  decide  now.  We'll  talk  it 
over  to-morrow." 

"  You'm  cold,"  said  Bob,  after  a  moment's 
silence,  reaching  into  a  locker  under  his  seat 


I  NGAVA  BOB  MAKES  A  RESCUE      89 

and  bringing  out  a  moleskin  adicity.    "  Put 
un  on.    She's  fine  and  warm." 

"Thank  you.  I'm  thoroughly  chilled," 
Shad  admitted,  gratefully  accepting  the  adicky 
and  drawing  it  on  over  his  wet  clothing. 

"  Pull  th'  hood  up,"  suggested  Bob. 
"  'Twill  help  warm  you." 

"  There,  that's  better;  I'll  soon  be  quite 
comfortable." 

"  We  don't  seem  to  be  making  much  head- 
way," Shad  remarked,  observing  the  shore 
after  a  brief  lapse  in  conversation. 

"No,"  said  Bob,  "  th'  canoe  bein'  awash 
'tis  a  heavy  drag  towin'  she,  but  we'll  soon  be 
in  th'  lee,  an'  out  o'  danger  o'  th'  sea  smashin' 
she  ag'in'  th'  boat,  an'  then  I'll  haul  she 
alongsidean'br;. .    v<         r  fit  aboard." 

They  were  sit  ..-ly  ^,  ,.,  ..-hing  the  south 
shore  and  presently,  as  Bob  had  predicted,  ran 
under  the  lee  of  a  long  point  of  land,  where 
in  calmer  water  the  canoe  was  manoeuvred 
alongside,  and  Shad's  outfit,  so  fortunately 
and  securely  lashed  fast  by  Ed  Matlieson,  was 
found  intact,  save  the  paddle  which  Shad  had 
been  using. 

The  things  were  quickly  transferred  to  the 


u 


40 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


boat,  and,  this  accomplished.  Bob  bailed  the 
canoe  free  of  water,  dropped  it  astern,  now  a 
light  and  easy  tow,  and  catching  the  breeze 
again  in  the  open,  turned  at  length  into  Wolf 
Bight,  where  he  made  a  landing  on  a  sandy- 
beach. 

"  That's  where  I  lives,"  said  Bob,  indicat- 
ing a  little  log  cabin,  sharply  silhouetted 
against  the  moonlit  sky,  on  a  gentle  rise  above 
them. 

When  the  canoe,  quite  unharmed,  was  lifted 
from  the  water  and  all  made  snug,  Shad  si- 
lently followed  up  the  path  and  into  the  door 
of  the  darkened  cabin,  where  Bob  lighted  a 
candle,  displaying  a  large  square  room,  the 
uncarpeted  floor  scoured  to  immaculate  white- 
ness, as  were  also  the  home-made  wooden 
chairs,  a  chest  of  drawers,  and  uncovered 
table. 

There  were  two  windows  on  the  south  side 
and  one  on  the  north  side,  all  gracefully 
draped  with  snowy  muslin.  A  clock  ticked 
cheerfully  on  a  rude  mantel  behind  a  large 
box  stove.  To  the  left  of  the  door,  a  rough 
stairway  led  to  the  attic,  and  the  rear  of  the 
room  was  curtained  off  into  two  compart- 


UNGAVA  BOB  MAKES  A  RESCUE  41 
ments,  the  spotlessly  clean  curtains  of  a  pale 
blue  and  white  checked  print,  giving  a  refresh- 
ing touch  of  colour  to  the  room  which,  simply 
as  it  was  furnished,  possessed  an  atmosphere 
of  restfulness  and  homely  comfort  that  im- 
pressed the  visitor  at  once  as  cosy  and  whole- 
some. 

"  My  folks  be  all  abed,"  explained  Bob,  as 
he  placed  the  candle  on  the  table,  "  but  we'll 
put  a  fire  on  an'  boil  th'  kettle.  A  drop  o' 
hot  tea '11  warm  you  up  after  your  cold  souse." 

"  I  would  appreciate  it,"  said  Shad,  his 
teeth  chattering. 

"Be  that  you.  Bob?  "  asked  a  voice  from 
behind  the  curtain. 

"  Aye,  Father,"  answered  Bob,  "  an'  I  has 
a  gentleman  with  me,  come  t'  visit  us." 

"  Now  that  be  fine.  I'll  be  gettin'  right 
up,"  said  the  voice. 

"  Put  a  fire  on,  lad,  an'  set  th'  kettle  over," 
suggested  a  woman's  voice,  "  an'  I'll  be  get- 
tin' a  bite  t'  eat." 

"  Please  don't  leave  your  bed,"  pleaded 
Shad.  "  It  will  make  me  feel  that  I  am  caus- 
ing a  lot  of  trouble.  Bob  and  I  will  do  very 
nicely." 


42 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


"  'Tis  no  trouble,  sir— 'tis  no  trouble  at 
all,"  the  man's  voice  assured. 

"  Oh,  no,  sir;  'tis  no  trouble,"  echoed  the 
woman's  voice.  "  'Tis  too  rare  a  pleasure  t' 
have  a  visitor." 

Both  spoke  in  accents  of  such  honest  wel- 
come and  hospitality  that  Shad  made  no 
further  objection. 

The  fire  was  quickly  lighted,  and  Shad,  as 
the  stove  began  to  send  out  its  genial  wannth, 
had  but  just  removed  his  borrowed  adicky 
when  the  curtain  parted  and  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Gray  appeared. 

"  Mr.  Trowbridge,  this  be  Father  and 
Mother,"  said  Bob;  adding  as  a  second 
thought,  "  Mr.  Trowbridge  lives  in  Bos- 
ton." 

"  'Tis  fine  t'  see  a  stranger,  sir,"  welcomed 
Eichard  Gray,  as  he  shook  Shad's  hand 
warmly,  "an'  from  Boston,  tool  I  have 
beam  th'  fishermen  o'  th'  coast  tell  o'  Boston 
more'n  once,  but  I  never  were  thinkin'  we'd 
have  some  one  from  Boston  come  t'  our  house  I 
An'  you  comes  all  th'  way  from  Boston, 
now?  " 

"  Yes,"  admitted  Shad,  "but  I  feel  sure 


UNGAVA  BOB  MAKES  A  RESCUE  43 
I'm  causing  you  and  Mrs.  Gray  no  end  of  in- 
convenience, coming  at  this  time  of  night." 

"  Oh,  no,  sir!  'Tis  no  inconvenience  in  th' 
least.  We're  proud  t'  have  you,"  assured 
Mrs.  Gray,  taking  his  hand.  "  Why,  you'm 
wet,  sirl"  she  exclaimed,  noticing  Shad's 
clinging  garments,  and  her  motherly  instinct 
at  once  asserted  itself.  '<  Yon  must  have  a 
change.  Bob,  lad,  hold  th'  candle,  now,  whilst 
I  get  some  dry  clothes." 

"  Please  don't  trouble  yourself.  I'm  very 
comfortable  by  the  fire;  indeed,  I  am,"  Shad 
protested. 

But  Bob  nevertheless  held  the  candle  while 
his  mother  selected  a  suit  of  warm  underwear, 
a  pair  of  woollen  socks,  a  flannel  outer  shirti 
and  a  pair  of  freshly  washed  white  moleskin 
trousers  from  the  chest  of  drawers. 

"  These  be  Bob's  clothes,  but  they'll  be  a 
handy  fit  for  you,  I'm  thinkin',  for  Bob  an' 
you  be  as  like  in  size  as  two  duck's  eggs,"  she 
commented,  looking  the  two  over  for  compari- 
son. "  Now,  Bob,  light  a  candle  an'  show  Mr. 
Trowbridge  above  stairs.  When  you're 
changed,  sir,  bring  your  wet  things  down,  an' 
we'll  hang  un  by  th'  stove  t'  dry." 


44 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


"  You're  very  kind,  Mrs.  Gray,"  said  Shad 
gratefully,  turning  to  follow  Bob. 

In  the  attic  were  three  bunks  spread  with 
downy  Hudson's  Bay  Company  blankets,  two 
stools,  and  a  small  table.  It  contained  no 
other  furniture,  but  was  beautifully  clean. 
There  was  an  open  window  at  either  end,  one 
looking  toward  the  water,  the  other  toward 
the  spruce  forest,  and  the  atmosphere,  bear- 
ing the  perfu.-ne  of  balsam  and  fir,  was  fresh 
and  wholesoi  ■  \ 

"  I  sleeps  here,"  informed  Bob,  placing  the 
candle  on  the  table  and  indicating  one  of  the 
bunks,  "an'  you  may  have  either  o'  th'  other 
beds  you  wants.  Now  whilst  you  changes,  sir, 
I'll  bring  up  th'  things  from  th'  boat.  Here's 
a  pair  o'  deerskin  moccasins.  Put  un  on," 
he  added,  selecting  a  new  pair  from  several 
hanging  on  a  peg. 

Shad  made  his  toilet  leisurely,  and  as  he 
turned  to  descend  the  stairs  with  his  wet  gar- 
ments on  his  arm  he  met  the  appetising  odour 
of  frying  fish,  which  reminded  him  that  he  had 
eaten  nothing  since  mid-day  and  was  raven- 
ously hungry. 
In  the  room  below  he  found  the  table  spread 


UNGAVA  BOB  MAKES  A  RESCUE  46 
with  a  white  cloth.  A  plate  of  bread  and  a 
jar  of  jam  were  upon  it,  and  at  the  stove  Mrs 
Gray  was  transferring  from  frying-pan  to 
platter  some  delicionsly  browned  brook  trout 
Bob,  with  his  father's  assistance,  had  brought 
up  Shad's  belongings  from  the  boat,  and  Eich- 
wd  was  critically  examining  Shad's  repeating 

"  Let  me  have  un,"  said  he,  putting  down 
the  gun,  and  reaching  for  the  wet  garments  on 
Shad's  arm  proceeded  at  once  to  spread  them 
upon  a  line  behind  the  stove. 

"  Set  in  an'  have  a  bite,  now.  You  must 
be  wonderful  hungry  after  your  cruise,"  in- 
vited Mrs.  Gray. 

"  'Tis  only  trout  an'  a  bit  o'  bread  an'  jam 
an'  a  drop  o'  tea,"  Eichard  apologised,  as  he 
jomed  Shad  and  Bob  at  the  table,  "  but  we 
has  t'  do  wi'  plain  eatin'  in  this  country,  an' 
be  content  with  what  th'  Lord  sends  us  " 

"Trout  are  a  real  luxury  to  me,"  assured 
Shad.  "  We  are  seldom  able  to  get  them  at 
home,  and  a  trout  supper  is  a  feast  to  be 
remembered." 

"Well,  nowt  Trout  a  luxury!  "  exclaimed 
Bichard.    "  About  aU  we  gets  t'  eat  in  th' 


46 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


summer  is  trout  an'  salmon,  an'  we're  glad 
enough  when  th'  birds  flies  in  th'  fall." 

"  What  birds  do  you  gett  "  asked  Shad. 

'"'  Duck  and  geese,  and  there's  plenty  of 
partridge  in  the  winter,"  explained  Richard. 

"  An'  I  were  thinkin',  now,  you  might  not 
care  for  un,"  said  Mrs.  Gray.  "I'm  wonder- 
ful glad  you  likes  un." 

Richard  asked  the  blessing,  and  then  invited 
Shad  to  "  fall  to,"  and  frequently  urged  him 
to  take  more  trout  and  not  to  be  "  afraid  of 
un,"  a  quite  unnecessary  warning  in  view  of 
Shad's  long  fast  and  naturally  vigorous 
appetite. 

"  Mr.  Trowbridge  wants  me  t'  go  on  a  fort- 
night's trip  up  th'  country  with  he,"  re- 
marked Bob,  as  they  ate. 

"  A  trip  up  th'  country! "  inquired 
Richard. 

"  Yes,"  said  Shad,  "  a  fishing  and  canoeing 
trip." 

"  But  Bob's  t'  be  wonderful  busy  makin' 
ready  for  th'  trappin',"  Richard  objected. 

"  So  he  tells  me,"  said  Shad,  "  but  perhaps 
if  we  talk  it  over  to-morrow  you  can  make 
some  suggestion." 


UNGAVA  BOB  MAKES  A  RESCUE      47 

"Aye,"  agreed  Richard,  with  evident  re- 
lief, "  we'll  talk  un  over  to-morrow." 

When  the  meal  was  finished,  Richard  de- 
voutly offered  thanks,  after  the  manner  of 
the  God-fearing  folk  of  the  country. 

The  mantel  clock  struck  two  as  they  arose 
from  the  table.  Dawn  was  breaking,  for  at 
this  season  of  the  year  the  Labrador  nights 
are  short,  and  Shad,  at  the  end  of  his  long  and 
eventful  day,  was  quite  content  to  follow  Bob 
above  stairs  to  his  attic  bunk. 


IV 

AWAY  TO  THE  TRAILS 


SUNSHINE  was  streaming  through  the 
open  south  window  of  the  attic  when 
Shad  awoke.  Just  outside  the  window  a 
jay  was  screeching  noisily.  Bob's  bunk  was 
vacant.  It  was  evident  that  Shad  had  slept 
long  and  that  the  hour  was  late,  and  he  sprang 
quickly  from  his  bed  and  consulted  his  watch, 
but  the  watch,  flooded  with  water  when  the 
canoe  capsized  the  night  before,  had  stopped. 
He  paused  for  a  moment  at  the  open  win- 
dow to  look  out  upon  the  nearby  forest  and 
expand  his  lungs  with  delicious  draughts  of 
the  fragrant  air.  It  was  a  glorious  day,  and 
as  be  left  the  window  to  make  a  hasty  toilet 
his  nerves  tingled  in  eager  anticipation,  for. 
he  was  at  last  at  the  threshold  of  the  great 
Labrador  wilderness — his  land  of  dreams  and 
romance.  He  was  certain  it  held  for  him  many 
novel  experiences  and  perhaps  thrilling  ad- 
ventures. And  he  was  not  to  be  disappointed. 
48 


AWAY  TO  THE  TRAILS  49 

His  clothes,  which  Richard  had  hung  to 
dry  by  the  stove  the  night  before,  lay  on  a 
Btool  at  his  bedside,  neatly  folded.  Some 
one  had  placed  them  there  while  he  slept. 
He  donned  them  quickly,  and  descending 
to  the  Imng-room  found  the  table  spread 
and  Mrs.  Gray  preparing  to  set  a  pot  of  tea 
to  brew. 

"  Good  morning,  sir,"  she  greeted,  adding 

sohcitously-.lhopesyouhadagoodrest! 
and  feels  none  the  worse  for  gettin'  wet  last 
evenm'." 

"Good  morning,"  said  Shad.  "I  rested 
splendidly,  thank  you,  and  feel  fine  and  dandy. 
Whew!  "  he  exclaimed,  glancing  at  the  mantel 
clock.    "Twelve  o'clock!" 

','  ^5^®-  ^^  ^as  wonderful  careful  t'  be  quiet 
an  not  wake  you,  sir,"  she  explained.    "  'Tig 
weU  t'  have  plenty  o'  rest  after  a  wettin'  in 
th  Bay.    Dinner's  just  ready,"  and  going  to 
the  open  door  she  called,  "  Emily!  Emily!  " 
A  young  girl,  perhaps  twelve  years  of  age 
qmckly  entered  in  response  to  the  summons' 
She  was  clad  in  a  cool,  fresh  print  frock  and 
wore  deerskin  moccasins  upon  her  feet.    Her 
wavy  chestnut-brown  hair,  gathered  with  a 


w 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


ribbon,  hung  down  her  back;  her  oval  face, 
lighted  by  big  blue  eyes,  was  tanned  a  healthy 
brown,  and  Shad  thought  her  a  rather  pretty 
and  altogether  wholesome  looking  child,  as 
she  paused  in  confusion  at  the  threshold  upon 
seeing  him. 

"  Emily,  dear,  get  Mr.  Trowbridge  a  basin 
o'  water,  now;  he's  wantin'  t'  wash  up,"  di- 
rected Mrs.  Gray.  "  Mr.  Trowbridge,  this  is 
our  little  maid,  Emily.^' 

"I'm  glad  to  know  you,  Emily,"  said  Shad 
courteously.  "  Have  you  >iuite  recovered 
from  your  injury!  When  I  was  at  Fort  Peli- 
can I  heard  all  about  you  and  your  trip  to  St. 
Johns." 

"  I's  fine  now,  thank  you,  sir,"  answered 
Emily,  flushing  to  the  roots  of  her  hair. 

"  Yes,  Emily's  fiae  an'  well  now,  sir,"  as- 
sured Mrs.  Gray,  as  Emily  turned  to  fill  the 
basin  of  water.  "  But  she  were  wonderful 
bad  after  her  fall  till  she  goes  t'  th'  hospital 
in  St.  Johns  t'  be  cured.  1  3y's  a  fresh  towel 
on  the  peg  above  th'  bench,  sir,  an'  a  comb  on 
th'  shelf  under  th'  mirror  by  th'  window," 
she  continued,  as  Emily  placed  a  basin  of 
water  on  a  bench  by  the  door. 


AWAY  TO  THE  TRAILS  61 

"  Thank  you,"  acknowledged  Shad,  turninjr 
to  complete  his  toilet. 

"  Now,  Emily,  dear,  call  Father  an'  Bob  " 
8aid  Mrs.  Gray,  "  dinner's  sot."  And  Emily, 
glad  of  a  respite  from  the  embarrassing  pres- 
ence of  the  stranger,  ran  o.t.  presently  to  re- 
turn with  her  father  and  Bob. 

When  dinner  was  disposed  of,  Richard  sug- 
nested  that  it  was  "  wonderful  warm  so  handy 
t  th'  stove,"  and  leaving  Mrs.  Gray  and  Em- 
i^y  to  clear  the  table  he  conducted  Shad  and 
Bob  to  a  convenient  seat  near  the  boat  land- 
ing, where  they  could  enjoy  a  cooling  breeze 
IT< :,  the  bay.    Here  he  drew  from  his  pocket 
a  .  .ck  of  very  black  and  very  strong-looking 
toacco,  and  holding  it  toward  Shad,  asked: 
"  Does  you  smoke,  sir?  " 
"  No,  thank  you,"  declined  Shad.    "  I  had 
just  learned  to  smoke  when  I  entered  college, 
bnt  I  was  trying  for  a  place  on  the  'varsity 
Dine,  and  I  had  to  drop  smoking.    A  fellow 
can't  play  his   best  ball,  you  know,  if  he 
smokes.    So  I  quit  smoking  before  I  formed 
the  habit." 

"  Is  that  a  game  like  snowshoe  raoin'T  " 
asked  Bob. 


n  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

"  Oh,  not  "  and  Shad  described  the  game 
and  its  tactica  minutely,  with  thrilling  details 
of  battles  that  his  college  nine  had  won  and 
lost  upon  the  diamond. 

"Well,  Bob,"  Shad  asked  finally,  "have 
yon  decided  to  go  with  me  for  a  trip  into  the 
country!  " 

"I'm  not  rightly  knowin',  sir,  where  you 
wants  t'  go,"  said  Bob. 

Shad  stated  the  object  of  his  journey,  and 
the  three  talked  over  the  possibilities  of  mak- 
ing such  a  trip  as  he  desired  within  the  time 
at  Bob's  disposal. 

"  Countin'  on  bad  weather,  'twouldn't  be 
much  of  a  trip  you  could  make  in  a  fortnut,  and 
that'd  be  th'  most  time  Bob  could  spare,  what- 
ever, with  his  gettin'  ready  t'  go  t'  th'  trails," 
Richard  finally  explained.  "  His  mother  an' 
me  be  wanfij'  he  home,  too,  till  he  goes,  for 
'twill  be  a  long  winter  for  his  mother  t'  have 
he  away  without  seein'  he. 

"  Now  you  says  you  has  no  hurry  t'  go 
away.  Dick  Blake  an'  Bill  Campbell  goes  t' 
th'  handiest  tilt  o'  th'  Big  Hill  trail  t'  help 
Bob  an'  Ed  Matheson  in  with  their  outfit,  an' 
they  starts  th*  first  o'  August.    Then  they 


AWAY  TO  THE  TRAILS 

outfits 


08 


cornea  back  f  take  their 


up  an'  they 


has  t'  get  in  before  freeze  up. 

"  You  bein'  in  no  hurry,  sir,  could  go  with 
un  on  th'  first  trip,  an'  come  back  with  nn,  an' 
that  gives  you  a  fine  trip  an'  a  fine  view  o'  th' 
country.  It  takes  un  a  month  t'  go  in,  but  run- 
nin-  back  light  wi'  th'  rapids  they  makes  un 
m  a  week,  so  you  gets  back  th'  first  week  in 
September  month. " 

"  'Twould  be  grand  t'  have  yon  along,  sir  I  " 
exclaimed  Bob.  "  An'  I  were  never  thinkin' 
0'  that.    Father's  wonderful  at  plannin'  " 

"Done I"  said  Shad.  "I'll  do  it,  but  I 
hope  you  won't  find  me  a  nuisance  around  here 
dunng  the  three  weeks  we  have  to  wait." 

"  Oh,  no,  sir!  'Tis  a  rare  treat  t'  have 
yon  visit  us,  sir!  "  protested  Richard. 
And  thus  it  was  finally  decided. 
Bob  was  very  busy  during  the  days  that  fol- 
lowed.  Not  only  his  provision  and  clothing 
supply  for  a  ten  months'  absence  from  home 
was  to  be  made  ready,  but  also  the  full 
equipment  for  the  new  trails  to  be  estab- 
lished. 

The  necessary  traps  had  already  been  pur- 
chased, but  sheet-iron  had  to  be  fashioned  into 


Bi 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


stoves  and  stove-pipe  to  heat  the  tents  and 
log  tilts,  and  one  new  tent  was  to  be  made.  It 
was  imperative,  too,  that  each  minor  necessity 
that  the  wilderness  itself  could  not  readily  sup- 
ply, he  provided  in  advance,  and  that  nothing 
be  forgotten  or  overlooked. 

The  establishment  of  these  trails  was  an 
event  of  high  importance  in  the  Gray  house- 
hold. Bob's  little  fortune  of  a  few  thousand 
dollars,  derived  from  the  salvage  of  a  trading 
schooner  the  previous  year,  had  been  depos- 
ited in  a  St.  Johns  bank,  and  his  thrifty  old 
friend,  Douglas  Campbell,  had  suggested  that 
it  might  be  invested  to  advantage  in  a  small 
trading  venture. 

"  Bob  can  lay  his  trails  this  winter,"  said 
Douglas,  "an'  next  year  take  some  tradin' 
goods  in.  Knowin'  th'  Nascaupee  an'  Moun- 
taineer Injuns,  an'  a  bit  o'  their  lingo,  he'll 
be  able  t'  do  a  snug  bit  o'  tradin'  with  un, 
along  with  his  trappin'.  An'  if  you  opens  a 
little  store  here  at  th'  Bight  next  summer,  th' 
rest  of  you  can  'tend  un  when  Bob's  inside 
trappin '. 

"  I  were  thinkin',  too,"  said  Douglas, 
"  'twould  be  fine  t'  send  Emily  t'  St.  Johns 


AWAY  TO  THE  TRAILS  65 

t'  school  th'  winter,  an'  she'd  learn  t'  keep 
th'  books.  She's  a  smart  lass,  an'  she'd  learn, 
now,  in  a  winter  or  two  winters,  whatever,  an' 
'twould  pay-an'  do  th'  lass  a  wonderful  lot 
o'  good.  I'm  wantin'  a  trip  f  St.  Johns,  an' 
I'd  take  she  on  th'  mail  boat." 

There  were  many  long  discussions  before  it 
was  finally  decided  that  Bob  should  launch 
upon  the  venture.  Bob's  mother  opposed  it. 
The  terrible  winter  of  suspense  when  Bob, 
lost  in  the  snow,  was  given  up  for  dead,  was 
still  a  vivid  remembrance  to  her.  She  recalled 
those  tedious  months  of  grief  as  one  recalls 
a  horrid  nightmare,  and  she  declared  that  an- 
other such  winter,  particularly  if  she  were  to 
be  deprived  of  Emily's  society,  would  be  un- 
endurable. 

But  her  objections  were  finally  overcome. 
Emily  was  to  go  to  school  and  it  was  decided 
Bob  should  establish  two  new  trails.  One  of 
these  he  was  to  hunt  himself,  the  other  one  Ed 
Matheson  had  agreed  to  hunt  on  a  profit-shar- 
ing basis.  Dick  Blake  and  Bill  Campbell- 
a  son  of  Douglas  Campbell— were  to  occupy 
adjoining  trails,  and  the  four  to  work  more  or 
less  in  conjunction  with  one  another. 


M  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

Shad  and  EmUy  became  fast  friends  at  once. 
On  pleasant  afternoons  she  would  lead  him 
away  to  explore  the  surrounding  woods  in 
search  of  wild  flowers,  and  after  supper  he 
would  tell  her  fairy  tales  from  Grimm,  but 
best  of  all  she  liked  his  stories  from  Greek  and 
Roman  mythology. 

She,  and  the  whole  family,  indeed,  listened 
with  rapt  attention  when  Shad  related  how 
Chronos  attacked  Uranos  with  a  sickle,  wound- 
ing and  driving  Uranos  from  his  throne;  how 
from  some  of  the  drops  that  fell  from  Uranos 's 
wounds  sprang  giants,  the  forefathers  of  the 
wild  Indians;  how  from  still  other  drops  came 
the  swift-footed  Furies— the  three  Erinnyes— 
who  punished  those  who  did  wrong,  and  were 
the  dread  of  the  wicked. 

Thus  the  days  passed  quickly  and  pleas- 
antly—even the  occasional  foggy  or  rainy 
days,  when  Bob  and  his  father  worked  in- 
doors, and  Bob,  at  Emily's  request,  recounted 
very  modestly  his  own  adventures.  Emily 
particularly  liked  to  have  Bob  tell  of  Ma-ni- 
ka-wan,  an  Indian  maiden  who  nursed  him 
back  to  health  after  Sish-e-ta-ku-shin  and  Moo- 
koo-mahn,  Manikawan's  father  and  brother, 


AWAY  TO  THE  TRAILS  57 

had  found  him  unconscious  in  the  snow  and 
earned  him  to  their  skin  wigwam. 

"  Th'  Nascaupees  was  rare  kind  f  me  " 
Bob  explained  to  Shad.  "  They  made  me  one 
o  th'  tribe,  Sishetakushin  calls  me  his  son 
an'  they  gives  me  an  Indian  name  meanin'  in 
our  talk  '  White  Brother  o'  th'  Snow.'  They 
were  thinkin'  I'd  stop  with  un,  an'  they  were 
wonderful  sorry  when  I  leaves  un  t'  come 
home  with  th'  huskies.  Manikawan  were  a 
pretty  maid— as  pretty  as  ever  I  see." 

"  Were  she  as  pretty  as  Bessie,  nowJ  " 
asked  Emily  slyly. 

"  Now,  Emily,  dear,  don't  go  teasin'  Bob  " 
warned  Mrs.  Gray.  ' 

"  I  were  just  askin'  he,"  said  Emily;  "  he's 
so  wonderful  fond  o'  Bessie." 

"  O'  course  he's  fond  0'  Bessie,  and  so  be 
all  of  us.  Emily's  speakin'  0'  Bessie  Black 
sir,"  Mrs.  Gray  explained,  to  Shad.  "  She's 
Tom  Black's  lass.  Tom  is  th'  factor's  man 
over  t'  th'  post,  an'  th'  Blacks  be  great  friends 
of  ours.  Bessie's  but  a  young  maid-a  year 
younger'n  Bob.  You'll  see  th'  Blacks  when 
you  goes  over  t'  th'post  with  Bob." 
"  I'm  immensely  interested  in  your  liidian 


08 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


friends,"  said  Shad.  "  Manikawan  was  a  lit- 
tle brick,  and  the  Nascaupees  bully  good  fel- 
lows. Will  there  be  a  chance  of  my  meeting 
themf  " 

"  No,  they  camps  on  lakes  down  t'  th' 
n'uth'ard  in  summer,"  Bob  explained.  "  If 
you  was  stayin'  th'  winter,  now,  you'd  see 
un." 

"I'm  almost  persuaded  to  remain  on  the 
trails  with  you  all  winter,  and  see  something 
of  the  life  of  real,  uncivilised  Indians,"  as- 
serted Shad.  ' '  I  would  stay  if  it  were  not  for 
college." 

"  'Twould  be  fine  t'  have  you,  now!  "  ex- 
claimed Bob  enthusiastically.  "  But,"  he 
added  doubtfully,  "  I'm  fearin'  you'd  find  th' 
winter  wonderful  cold,  an'  th'  tilts  lonesome 
places  t'  stop  in,  not  bein'  used  to  un." 

"An'  your  mother  would  be  worryin'  about 
you;  now,  wouldn't  shet  "  suggested  Mrs. 
Gray. 

"  My  mother  died  when  I  was  a  little  boy, 
and  Father  died  two  years  ago,"  said  Shad. 
"  I  have  one  sister,  but  she  learned  long  ago 
that  I  could  take  care  of  myself." 

"  Is  she  a  little  sister?  "  asked  Emily. 


AWAY  TO  THE  TRAILS  59 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Shad,  "  she's  a  big,  mar- 
ned  sister,  and  has  a  little  girl  of  her  own 
nearly  as  old  as  you  are." 

"  'Twould  be  grand  t'  have  you  stay,"  Bob 
again  suggested. 

"  Thank  you,  and  it  would  be  grand  to  stay, 
I'm  sure,  but,"  said  Shad  regretfully,  "  I 
can't  do  it.    I  must  go  back  to  college." 

At  length  Bob  announced  one  day  that  his 
outfit  was  completed  and  that  all  was  in  readi- 
ness, save  a  few  incidentals  to  be  purchased 
at  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company's  trading  post, 
fifteen  miles  across  the  bay.  Shad,  too,  found 
It  necessary  to  make  some  purchases  prepara- 
tory to  his  journey  to  the  interior,  and  the 
following  morning  the  two  sailed  away  in 
Bob's  dory. 

Tom  Black,  the  post  servant,  welcomed  them 
as  they  stepped  ashore  on  the  sandy  beach 
below  the  post,  and  with  him  was  Bob's 
old  friend,  Douglas  Campbell,  who  stated 
that  he  had  arrived  at  the  post  an  hour 
earlier. 

"I'm  glad  you  come  over.  Bob,"  said  he,  as 
the  four  walked  up  toward  Black's  cabin 
"  When  I  comes  t'  th'  post  this  momin'   I 


60  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

were  thinkin'  f  go  back  t'  Kenemish  by  way  of 
Wolf  Bight  t'  have  a  talk  with  you,  but  your 
comin'  saves  me  th'  cruise.  Set  down  here, 
now,  a  bit,  till  dinner's  ready.  I  wants  t'  hear 
your  plans  for  th'  trails." 

And  while  Shad  was  carried  off  by  Tom  to 
meet  Mr.  McDonald,  the  factor,  Douglas  and 
Bob  seated  themselves  upon  a  bench  before 
the  cabin  and  discussed  the  proposed  new 
trails. 

"  Now,  Bob,  'tis  this  I  were  wantin'  t'  say 
to  you,  an'  I  weren't  wantin'  t'  say  it  when 
your  mother 'd  hear,  an'  set  her  worryn'," 
said  Douglas  finally.    "  Don't  forget  you're 
goin'  where  no  white  trapper  was  ever  goin' 
before.    You'll  have  to  be  a  wonderful  sight 
more  careful  than  on  th'  Big  Hill  trail.    Last 
year  when  I  goes  on  th'  Big  Hill  trail  some 
Mmgen  Injuns  come  t'  th'  last  tilt  an'  made 
some  trouble,  an'  told  me  they'd  never  let  a 
white  trapper  hunt  th'  country  beyond  th'  Big 
Hill  trail,  an'  you  plans  f  go,  Bob.    Now,  if 
you  works  west'ard  of  a  line  from  th'  last 
tilt  o'  th'  Big  Hill  trail  an'  th'  river,  be  won- 
derful careful  o'  th'  Mingens.    They's  a  bad 
lot  of  Injuns." 


AWAY  TO  THE  TRAILS  gl 

''  I'll  be  careful,  sir,"  promised  Bob,  add- 

"You  never  knows  what  an  Injun's  goin'  f 
do.',  cauhoned  Douglas.    •'  You  was  findin- 

LremT"  '""''''  '"*  '^'  ^-^-  " 

to^dirr"''  ?.""  '""^'^  '^"^  ""-^  '"-"«d  them 
to  dinner  m  the  crudely  furnished  but  spot- 

lessly  clean  living-room  of  the  cabin.    Zt 

Black  a  stout,  motherly  woman,  had  countless 
quest.       ,       ,  ,,  ^^^^^^^  ^^^  ^^^  ^^  ^^  JJ 

th  folks  t'  home  "  fared,  while  she  and  her 
daughter  Bessie  served  the  meal 

Shad  dined  with  Mr.  McDonald,  but  directly 
after  dinner  jomed  Bob  while  they  made  thei'r 
purchases  in  the  shop,  and  prepared  fr  im- 
mediate departure  to  Wolf  Bight.    When  all 

^as  ready.  Bob  left  Shad  waitfngatT^boa 
while  he  returned  to  the  cabin  to  say  good- 
bye to  Mrs.  Black  and  Bessie. 
Bessie  foDowed  him  to  the  door,  and  when 

they  were  outside  where  none  could  see  she 
drew  from  beneath  her  apron  a  buckskin  cart- 
ndge  pouch,  upon  which  she  had  neatly  worked 
".silktheword..BoB..inthecentrr2a 


W  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

floral  design,  doubtless  the  result  of  many 
days'  labour. 

"  Here,  Bob,"  said  she,  "  I  were  makin'  it 
for  you,  an'  when  you  carries  it  on  th'  trail 
remember  we're  all  thinkin'  of  you  down  here, 
an'  wishin'  you  luck  in  th'  furrin',  an'  hopin' 
you're  safe." 

"  OhI— Bessie— 'tis— 'tis  wonderful  kind  of 
you— I'll  always  be  rememberin',"  Bob  stam- 
mered in  acceptance,  for  a  moment  quite 
overcome  with  surprise  and  embarrassment. 
"  Now  take  care  of  yourself.  Bob.  We'll  be 
missin'  you  th'  winter— good-bye.  Bob." 
"  Good-bye,  Bessie." 

Bob  and  Shad  quickly  hoisted  sail,  and  as 
they  drew  away  from  shore  Bob  looked  back 
to  see  Bessie  still  standing  in  the  cabin  door, 
waving  her  handkerchief  to  him,  and  he  re- 
gretted that  he  had  not  shown  more  plainly 
his  appreciation  of  her  gift  and  her  thought- 
fulness. 

The  following  Monday  was  the  day  set  for 
the  departure  of  the  adventurers,  and  in  ac- 
cordance with  a  previous  arrangement,  late  on 
Sunday  afternoon  Dick  Blake,  Ed  Matheson, 
and  Bill  Campbell,  Ungava  Bob's  trapping 


AWAY  TO  THE  TRAttS  63 

companions,  joined  him  and  Shad  at  Wolf 
Bjght  where  they  were  to  spend  the  night. 
Bill  Campbell  was  a  tall,  awkward,  bashful 
young  man  of  twenty-one,  whose  chief  physical 
characteristic  was  a  great  shock  of  curly  red 

Monday  morning  came  all  too  soon.  Break- 
fas  was  eaten  by  candle  light,  and  with  the 
first  grey  hints  of  coming  dawn  the  boat  and 
fehad  8  canoe  were  loaded  for  the  start 

Shad's  tent  and  camping  equipment,  less 
heavy  and  cumbersome  than  Bob's,  together 
with  a  hmited  supply  of  provisions  for  daily 
use  upon  the  journey  to  the  plateau,  were  car- 
r.ed  m  the  canoe.    The  bulk  of  the  provisions 
and  the  heavier  outfit  for  the  trails,  made  up 
into  easily  portaged  packs,  were  stowed  in  the 
boat.     This  arrangement  of  the  outfit  was 
made  to  avoid  the  necessity  of  unpacking  and 
repackmg  at  night  camp,  and  with  packs  thus 
always  ready  for  the  carry,  much  time  could 
be  saved. 

The  family  gathered  at  the  shore  to  bid  the 
travellers  farewell.  First,  the  boat  with  Dick 
Blake,  Ed  Matheson,  and  Bill  Campbell  at  the 
oars  pulled  off  into  the  curtain  of  heavy 


6« 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


morning  mist  that  lay  upon  the  waters.  Then 
Bob  kissed  his  mother  and  Emily,  pressed  his 
father's  hand,  took  his  place  in  the  canoe 
with  Shad,  and  a  moment  later  they,  too,  were 
swallowed  up  by  the  fog. 

The  long  journey,  to  be  followed  by  a  win- 
ter of  hardship  and  adventure,  was  beg^in,  and 
with  heavy  hearts  the  little  family  upon  the 
shore  turned  back  to  their  lowly  cabin  and 
weary  months  of  misgiving  and  uncertainty. 


IN  THE  FAR  WILDERNESS 

BEYOND    the    sheltered    bight   a   good 
breeze  was  blowing  and  presently,  as 

he  water,  Shad  and  Bob,  keeping  close  to 
shore,  discovered  the  boat  a  half-mile  away 
w.th^  sails   hoisted,   bowling  along  at  gooJ 

''We'll  be  makin-  rare  time,  now,"  said 

Bob.    "We'll  be  passin- Rabbit  Island  in  an 
hour,  an'  makin'  the  Traverspine  t'  bcU  th' 
Kettle  for  dmner." 
"  No  rapids  to-day»  "  asked  Shad. 
"No,  th'  portage  at  Muskrat  Falls  is  th' 
firs,      answered    Bob,   adding   uncertainly: 
I  m  'feared  you'll  find  th'  work  on  th'  river 
w«,nsome,  not  bein-  used  t'  un-th'  portagin' 
an'trachn'.    I  finds  nn  hard." 
^^  "  That's  a  part  of  the  game,"  said  Shad. 
I  expect  to  do  my  share  of  the  work,  old 


M  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

man,  and  I  don't  think  you'll  find  me  a  quit- 
ter." 

"  I  were  knowin',  now,  you  were  that  kind, 
ever  since  I  picks  you  out  o'  th'  Bay,"  ex- 
elaimi'd  Bob.  "  You  weren't  login'  your  head, 
an'  by  th'  time  I  h'ists  sail  you  was  wringin' 
th'  water  outen  your  shirt,  just  as  if  'tweren't 
nothin '.  An ',  Mr.  Trowbridge,  I  likes  you  ever 
since." 

"  Thank  you.  Bob,  but  if  you  want  me  to  be 
your  friend  drop  the  handle  from  my  name 
and  call  me  '  Shad.'  We're  on  an  equal  foot- 
ing from  this  on." 

"  'Twill  be  wonderful  hard,  Mr.  Trow " 

"Shad  I" 

"  'Twill  be  wonderful  hard  t'  call  you 
'Shad '-it  sounds  kind  of  nnrespectful, 
now." 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  laughed  Shad.  "  All 
the  fellows  call  me  Shad." 

"I'll  try  t'  think  now  t'  do  it,  Mr.— I  means 
Shad.    But  'tis  a  rare  queer  name." 

"  Shadraeh  is  the  full  name.  It  is  pretty 
awful,  isn't  itf  But  doting  parents  cast  it 
upon  me,  and  I'll  have  to  hold  my  head  up 
under  it." 


^  IN  THK  rvR  WILDERXESS  „ 

Ti«  a  Bible  name    now     t  .         ■ 

distance.  Bob  called  out  "  '"'"'"'"^ 

"I'm  thinkin'  me  an>  Shad 'II  go  on  t'  tl- 

tlT?rr'''"'^^*'""'''-'''-e"*ke. 
tie  bo. led  when  you  comes  up.    We  ought  f 

ma_keclostt'th.Traverspinebynoon7 
You  an'  whof  "  bawled  Dick 

•'Me  an' Shad-Mr.  Trowbridge." 
time.'.     "''*'"  '""'""'^  ^'"'^'  "  '"^"  «ave 

"Bob's    getdn'    wonderful    nnrespectful 
-mn'Mr.   Toobridge.Shadl'.'reraS 

-,     'Tis  Cbreg-rwCe-rS 
be  calhn' he  wrong  t' his  face  again." 

PH  r  .""  J*""!^"'  y*""  ''^  right  this  time,  Dick," 
Ed  reluctantly  admitted. 

sh„?\''*5*''  ""'*  '^'"'''  *=«°°«  ^^^  already 
shot  ahead  and  was  out  of  hearing.  Bob'I 
mmd  filled  with  plans  for  the  fuL,  Shad 


«8  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

enjoying  the  wide  vista  of  water  and  wilder- 
ness, they  paddled  in  silence. 

The  brilliant  sunshine,  the  low,  rocky  shores, 
the  spruce-clad  hills  rising  above,  with  now 
and  again  a  breath  of  the  perfumed  forest 
wafted  to  them  upon  the  breeze,  inspired  and 
exhilarated  the  young  voyageurs.  Shad  was 
conscious  of  a  new  sense  of  freedom  and  power 
taking  possession  of  him.  The  romance  of  the 
situation  appealed  to  his  imagination.  Was 
he  not  one  of  an  adventurous  band  of  pioneers 
going  into  a  vast  wilderness,  an  untamed  and 
unexplored  land,  to  battle  with  nature  and  the 
elements? 

For  several  hours  they  paddled,  finally  en- 
tering the  wide  river  mouth.  Here  the  first  in- 
dication of  a  current  was  encountered,  and 
the  northern  bank  was  followed  closely  that 
they  might  take  advantage  of  counter  eddies, 
and  thus  overcome  the  retarding  effect  of  the 
midstream  current. 

"  'Twill  be  noon  when  th'  boat  comes,  an' 
we'll  stop  now  t'  boil  th'  kettle,"  Bob  finally 
suggested.  "  Th'  Traverspine  River  is  handy 
by.  She  comes  into  this  river  just  above  here 
a  bit." 


Don't  make  such  a  hig  tire" 


_. 


IN  THE  FAR  WaDERNESS  69 

"  Good!  "  exclaimed  Shad.  "I'm  nearly 
famished,  and  I've  been  hoping  for  the  last 
hour  to  hear  you  say  that." 

"  Paddlin'  do  make  for  hunger,"  admitted 
Bob,  as  he  stepped  ashore  on  a  sandy  beach 
near  the  mouth  of  a  rushing  brook.  "  I'm  a 
bit  hungry  myself.  I'll  be  puttin'  a  fire  on 
now,  an'  you  brings  up  th'  things  from  th' 
canoe." 

In  an  incredibly  short  time  the  fire  was 
lighted,  and  when  Shad  brought  up  a  kettle 
of  water  from  the  rivjr  Bob  had  already  cut 
a  stiff  pole  about  five  feet  in  length.  The  butt 
end  of  this  he  sharpened,  uad,  jamming  it  into 
the  ground,  inclined  it  in  such  manner  that 
the  kettle,  which  he  took  from  Shad  and  hung 
by  its  bail  upon  the  other  end  of  the  pole,  was 
suspended  directly  over  the  blaze. 

Bob,  who  installed  himself  as  cook,  now 
sliced  some  fat  pork  to  fry,  while  Shad  gath- 
ered a  quantity  of  large  dry  sticks  which  lay 
plentifully  about  and  began  piling  them  upon 
the  fire. 

"  Oh,  don't  make  such  a  big  fire,  now!  "  ex- 
claimed Bob,  when  he  discovered  what  Shad 
was  about.    "  'Twill  be  too  hot  f  cook  by.   A 


70 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


small  bit  o'  fire's  enough;  "  and  he  proceeded 
to  pull  out  of  the  blaze  the  large  wood  which 
Shad  had  placed  upop  it. 

"  If  there's  nothing  else  for  me  to  do,  I'll 
see  if  there  are  any  trout  in  that  brook,"  said 
Shad. 

Shad  made  his  first  cast  in  a  promising  pool 
a  little  way  from  the  fire,  and  the  moment  the 
fly  touched  the  water,  "  zip  I  "  went  the  reel. 
The  result  was  a  fine  big  trout.  Within  twenty 
minutes  he  had  landed  eighteen,  and  when 
presently  the  bott  drew  up  a  delicious  odour 
of  frying  fish  welcomed  the  three  hungry  men 
as  they  sprang  ashore  and  made  the  painter 
fast. 

"  Shad  got  un,"  explained  Bob,  in  response 
to  an  exclamation  of  pleasure  from  Ed. 

"  You  means  Mr.  Towbridge,  Bob,"  cor- 
rected Dick,  with  dignity. 

"No,"  broke  in  Shad,  "  Bob's  right.  Shad 
is  my  front  name  and  I  want  you  fellows  to 
call  me  Shad;  leave  the  handle  off." 

"An'  you  wants,  sir,"  agreed  Dick.  "  'Tis 
a  bit  more  friendly  soundin'." 

"  Them  trout  makes  me  think,"  said  Ed, 
as  he  cut  some  tobacco  from  a  plug  and  filled 


IN  THE  FAR  WILDERNESS  71 

hi«  pipe  after  dinner,  "of  onct  I  were  out 

h«nt.n-   pa-tridge.     I  gets   plenty   o     pa" 

ndges,  but  I  finds  myself  wonderful  hungry 

for  tvout  when  I  comes  to  a  pool  in  a  brook 

where  I  stops  t' cook  my  dinner  an' sees  a  big 
un  jump.  » 

"  '  Now,'  says  I,  f  myself,  '  Ed,'  says  I 
you  got  f  get  un  somehow,'  an'  I  goes' 
through  my  pocket  lookin'  for  tackle.  All  I 
finds  IS  a  piece  o'  salmon  twine  an'  one  fish 
Jook.  '  I'll  try  un,  whatever,,  says  I  a„: 
I  cuts  a  pole  an'  ties  th'  salmon  twine  t'  un, 
an  th', 00k  t' th- salmon  twine,  an,' baitin' 
«>   hook  with  a  bite  pa 'tridge  skin,  throws 

"Quicker'n  a  steel  trap  a  trout  takes  un 

Idontpullhenghtin.    Then  before  I  knows 

ita  b,g  trout  takes  an'  swallows  th'  little  un  " 

Ed  paused  to  lend  effect  to  the  climax,  while 

he^l^hted  hxs  pipe  and  began  puffiug  ..go. 

^J  Well,  .'  asked   Shad.     "  Did   you   land 

"Not  very  prompt,"  continued   Ed      "T 
was  so  flustrated  I  just  looks  at  un  for'a  bit. 


7« 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


skiddin'  aronnd  in  th'  water.  Then,  while  I 
lets  un  play,  quicker  'n  I  can  say  '  boo  '  an  old 
whopper  up  an'  grabs  th'  big  un  an'  swallows 
he.    Then  I  yanks,  an'  I  lands  th'  three  of  un. 

"  Th'  outside  un  were  two  foot  and  a  half 
long  an'  a  fraction  over.  I  measures  he.  Th' 
next  one  were  nineteen  an'  three-quarters 
inches  long,  an'  th'  little  un  were  ten  inches 
long.  Th'  little  un  an'  th'  next  weren't  hurt 
much,  an'  not  wantin'  they  I  throws  un  back, 
an'  th'  big  un  does  me  for  dinner  an'  sup- 
per an'  breakfast  th'  next  mornin',  an'  then 
I  throws  a  big  hunk  that  were  left  over  away, 
because  I  don't  want  t'  pack  un  any  longer." 

"  Ed,"  said  Dick  solemnly,  "  you'll  be 
struck  dead  some  day  for  lyin'  so." 

"  Who?  Me  lyin'?  "  asked  Ed,  with  as- 
sumed indignation. 

"  Yes,  you.  You'm  always  yamin',  Ed. 
You  never  seen  a  trout  moren't  two  foot  long, 
no  more'n  I  have,"  declared  Dick. 

"  Oh,  well,"  sighed  Ed,  while  the  others 
laughed,  "  they's  no  use  tellin'  you  of  hap- 
penin's,  Dick,  you  always  were  a  doubtin'  o' 
me." 

The  following  day  at  noon  the  Muskrat 


IN  THE  FAR  WILDERNESS  78 

Falls  were  reached,  and  here  the  real  work 
and  hardship  of  the  journey  began.  Day  after 
day  the  men  were  driven  to  toil  with  tracking 
lines  up  swift  currents,  more  often  than  not 
immersed  to  their  waists  in  the  icy  waters  of 
the  river,  or  for  weary  miles  they  staggered 
over  portages  with  heavy  loads  upon  their 
backs.  To  add  to  their  difficulties  a  season  of 
ram  set  in,  and  hardly  a  day  passed  without 
Its  hours  of  drizzle  or  downpour.  But  they 
could  not  permit  rain  or  weather  to  retard 
their  progress. 

Always  between  sunrise  and  sunset  they 
were  tormented,  too,  by  myriads  of  black  flies 
and  mosquitoes,  the  pests  of  the  North.  There 
was  no  protection  against  the  attacks  of  the 
insects.  The  black  flies  were  particulariy  vi- 
cious; not  only  was  their  bite  poisonous,  but 
a  drop  of  blood  appeared  wherever  one  of 
them  made  a  wound,  and  in  consequence  the 
faces,  hands,  and  wrists  of  the  toiling  voy- 
ageurs  were  not  alone  constantly  swollen,  but 
were  coated  with  a  mixture  of  blood  and 
sweat. 

Shad,  less  toughened  than  his  companions, 
suffered  more  than  they.    He  was  actually 


7*  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

made  Ul  for  a  day  or  two  by  the  poison  thus 
inoculated  into  his  system,  though  with  his 
characteristic  determination,  he  still  insisted, 
against  the  protests  of  tho  ofhers,  upon  doing 
his  full  share  of  the  work     Jick  advised  him, 
finally,  to  carry  a  fat  pc v  rind  in  his  pocket 
and  to  occasionally  apply  the  greasy  side  of 
the  rind  to  his  face  and  hands.    This  he  dis- 
covered offered  some  relief,  though,  as  he  re- 
marked, grease,  added  to  blood  and  sweat, 
gave  him  the  appearance  of  a  painted  savage. 
With  the  evening  camp-fire,  however,  came 
a  respite  to  the  weary  travellers,  and  recom- 
pense for  all  the  hardship  and  toil  of  the  day. 
Here  they  would  relax  after  supper,  and  with 
vast  enjoyment  smoke  and  chat  or  tell  stories 
of  wild  adventure. 

Shad  contributed  tales  of  college  pranks, 
which  never  failed  to  bring  forth  uproarious 
laughter,  while  his  vivid  descriptions  of  bat- 
tles on  the  gridiron  or  on  the  diamond,  illus- 
trated with  diagrams  drawn  with  a  stick  upon 
the  ground,  and  minutely  explained,  held  his 
hearers  in  suspense  until  the  final  goal  wa.s 
kicked  or  the  last  inning  played. 
Dick  and  Ed  described  many  stirring  per- 


IN  THE  FAR  WILDERNESS  75 

sonal  adventures,  the  latter  embellishing  his 
Btone«  wUh  so  many  fantastic  flights  of  ilgi. 
•>ahon  that  Shad  would  scarcely  have  kno,vn 
where  fact  ended  and  fiction  began  had  D^ 

of    he  eternal  vengeance  that  awaited  Ed  If 
hed.d„ot"haveacareofhisyamin". 

One  morning  during  the  third  week  after 
leaving  Wolf  Bight,  a  beautiful  sheet  of  pad 

vista  to  the  northwest.  On  either  side  of  the 
narrow  lake  rose  towering  cliffs  of  gran  te 
heir  dark  faces  lighted  at  intervals  by  brook-' 
lets  tumbling  in  cascades  from  the  heights 
above.    A  loon  laughed  weirdly  in  the  di 

tance,  and  from  the  hills  above  a'wolf  so  ndd 
ad,.,^alhowl.    It  was  a  scene  of  rugged,  pri 
meval  grandeur,  and  Shad,  taken  cSplete  ^ 
by  surprise,  caught  his  breath 
"  TlZ'll'^L''  Wanakapow,'.  explained  Ed. 

'T^     ^^"^'"■'^'■''"'^'"'P-t^^-'- 
Tw.ll  be  straight  sailin'  an'  paddlin'  from 

this  on.    Th'  first  tilt  C  th'  Big  Hill  trail^ 
un  by  th'  end  o'  th'  week,  whatever  " 
For  the  first  time  since  their  departure  the 


76 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


voyageurs  were  enabled  to  don  dry  clothing, 
with  the  assurance  that  they  could  remain  dry 
and  comfortable  throughout  the  day.  The 
evenings  were  becoming  frosty  and  exhilarat- 
ing. The  black  flies  and  mosquitoes  had  ceased 
to  annoy.  Wild  geese  and  ducks  upou  the 
waters,  and  flocks  of  ptarmigans  along  tlie 
shores,  gave  promise  of  an  abundance  and 
variety  of  food. 

With  the  changed  conditions,  in  marked  con- 
trast to  the  toil  and  hardships  of  the  preceding 
weeks.  Shad's  desire  to  remain  throughout  the 
winter  grew.  The  lure  of  the  wilderness  had 
its  power  upon  him. 

The  first  tilt  of  the  Big  Hill  trail  was 
reached  on  Saturday,  as  Ed  had  predicted. 
Here  camp  was  pitched,  the  boat  finally  un- 
loaded, and  preparation  made  for  Dick  and 
Bill  to  begin  their  return  voyage  on  Monday 
morning. 

When  supper  was  eaten  and  they  were  gath- 
ered about  the  evening  camp-fire  in  blissful 
relaxation,  silently  watching  the  aurora  bore- 
alis  work  its  wild  wonders  in  the  sky.  Shad 
suddenly  asked: 
"  Are  you  certain.  Bob,  I'd  not  be  a  burden 


IN  THE  FAR  WILDERNESS  TT 

to  you  if  I  remained  here  all  wintert  Yon 
know,  I'm  a  tenderfoot  in  the  woods." 

"Oh    no  I"  Bob  assured  enthusiastically. 

You  d  be  no  burden!  An-  when  your  feet 
gets^  tender  you  can  bide  in  th'  tilt  an'  rest 

"I  don't  mean  that  my  feet  are  tender  in 
that  way,"  laughed  Shad,  "  but  I'm  a  novice 
m  woodcraft  and  I've  never  done  any  trap- 
mg.  You'd  have  to  teach  me  a  great  deal 
abou  these  things,  and  I  don't  want  to  stay 
It  1  il  hinder  your  work  in  the  least." 

"  Oh,  you'd  never  be  hinderin'  th'  work! 
An'  you'd  be  a  wonderful  lot  o'  company, 
whatever!    I  hopes  you'll  stay,  Shad!  " 

"Thank  you.  Bob.  I'll  stay.  It  will  put  me 
back  a  whole  year  in  college,  but  I'll  stay  any- 
how. My  experience  with  you  will  be  worth 
the  sacrifice  of  a  year  in  college,  I'm  sure." 

Now  that  be  grand !  "  exclaimed  Bob,  his 
lace  beaming  pleasure. 

''An'  Shad  stays,  Ed,  he'll  give  Bob  a  hand 
with  th'  tilts,"  suggested  Dick.  "  Can't  you 
go  back,  now,  with  me  an'  Bill,  f  help  us  up 
with  our  outfits  J  'Twill  be  a  wonderful  hard 
an  slow  pull  for  just  th' two  of  us." 


MiaiocofY  nsounioN  test  chmt 

(ANSI  ond  ISO  TEST  CHART  No,  2) 


_^  APPLIED  IfVMGE     Ine 

S^  1653   Cost   Main   Strest 

r*.S  Rochester.  Nsm  Vo..        U609       USA 

'.g  (716)  482  -  0300  -  Phone 

^a  (716)  288  -  5909  -  Fo> 


TO  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

"  Be  you  thinkin',  now,  you  can  manage  th' 
tilts?  "  asked  Ed,  turning  to  Bob. 

"0'  course  me  an'  Shad  can  manage  un," 
assured  Bob. 

"I'll  go  back,  then,  Dick,"  consented  Ed. 
"  'Twould  be  hard  t'  manage  with  just  two  on 
th'  boat." 

Arrangements  were  made  for  the  three  trap- 
pers to  bring  Shad  some  adequate  winter  cloth- 
ing upon  their  return,  letters  were  written 
home,  and  at  daylight  on  Monday  morning 
adieus  were  said.  Bob  and  Shad  stood  upon 
the  shore  watching  the  boat  bearing  their 
friends  away,  until  it  turned  a  bend  in  the 
river  below  and  was  lost  to  view. 

"  We'll  not  see  un  again  for  five  weeks," 
said  Bob  regretfully,  as  they  retraced  their 
steps  to  the  embers  of  the  camp-fire  over  which 
breakfast  had  been'  cooked. 

"  And  in  the  meantime,"  began  Shad  gaily, 
with  a  sweep  of  his  arm,  "  we  are  monarchs 

of  all "    Suddenly  he  stopped.    His  eyes, 

following  the  sweep  of  his  arm,  had  fallen 
upon  two  Indians  watching  them  from  the 
shadow  of  the  spruce  trees  beyond  their  camp. 


VI 


'S' 


OLD  FRIENDS 

JISHETAKUSHIN  and  Mookoomahn !  " 

exclaimed  Bob. 

The  moment  they  were  recognised 
the  two  Indians  strode  fonvard,  laughing,  and 
grasped  Bob's  hand  in  a  manner  that  left  no 
doubt  of  their  pleasure  at  meeting  him,  while 
both  voiced  their  feeling  in  a  torrent  of  tu- 
multuous words. 

They  were  tall,  lithe,  sinewy  fellows,  clad 
in  buckskin  shirt,  tight-fitting  buckskin  leg- 
gings, and  moccasins.  They  wore  no  hats,  but 
a  band  of  buckskin,  decorated  in  colours,  pass- 
ing around  the  forehead,  held  in  subjection  the 
long  black  hair,  which  fell  nearly  to  their 
shoulders.  In  the  hollow  of  his  left  arm  each 
carried  a  long,  muzzle-loading  trade  gun,  and 
Mookoomahn,  the  younger  of  the  two,  also  car- 
ried at  his  back  a  bow  and  a  quiver  of 
arrows. 
"  These  be  th'  Injuns  I  were  tellin'  you  of," 

79 


80 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


■i    ■■;» 


Bob  finally  introduced,  when  an  opportunity 
offered.  "  Shake  hands  with  un,  Shad.  This 
nn  is  Sishetakushin,  an'  this  un  is  his  son, 
Mookoomahn.  I  've  been  tellin '  they  you  're  my 
friend." 

In  their  attitude  toward  Shad  they  were  dig- 
nified and  reserved.  Neither  could  speak  Eng- 
lish, and  Bob,  who  had  a  fair  mastery  of  the 
Indian  tongue,  interpreted. 

"  We  are  glad  to  meet  the  friend  of  White 
Brother  of  the  Snow,"  said  Sishetakushin, 
acting  as  spokesman.  "  We  welcome  him  to 
our  country.  White  Brother  of  the  Snow  tells 
us  he  will  remain  for  many  moons.  He  will 
visit  our  lodge  with  White  Brother  of  the 
Snow  and  eat  our  meat.   He  will  be  welcome." 

"  I  thank  you,"  responded  Shad.  "  White 
Brother  of  the  Snow  has  told  me  how  kind  you 
were  to  him  when  he  was  in  trouble,  and  it  is 
a  great  pleasure  to  meet  you.  I  will  certainly 
visit  your  lodge  with  him  and  eat  your  meat." 

The  ceremony  of  introduction  completed, 
Bob  renewed  the  fire  and  brewed  a  kettle  of 
tea  for  his  visitors.  They  drank  it  greedily, 
and  at  a  temperature  that  would  have  scalded 
a  white  man's  throat. 


OLD  FRIENDS  81 

"  They's  wonderful  fond  o'  tea,  and  to- 
bacco, too,"  explained  Bob,  "an'  they  only 
gets  un  when  they  goes  t'  Ungava  onct  or  twict 
a  year." 

Upon  Bob's  suggestion  that,  should  they 
meet  Indians,  it  would  prove  an  acceptable 
gift,  Shad  had  purchased  at  the  post  and 
brought  with  him  a  bountiful  supply  of  black 
plug  tobacco,  such  as  the  natives  used,  and 
with  this  hint  from  Bob  he  gave  each  of  the 
Indians  a  half-dozen  plugs.  The  swarthy 
faces  and  black  eyes  of  the  visitors  lighted  with 
pleasure,  and  from  that  moment  much  of  the 
reserve  that  they  had  hitherto  maintained 
toward  hJm  vanished. 

"  The  friend  of  White  Brother  of  the  ,  ^ow 
is  generous,"  said  Sishetakushin,  in  accept- 
ing the  tobacco.  "  For  four  moons  we  have 
had  nothing  to  smoke  but  dried  leaves  and  the 
bark  of  the  red  willow." 

Each  Indian  carried  at  his  belt  a  pipe,  the 
bowl  fashioned  from  soft,  red  pipe  stone,  the 
stem  a  hollow  spruce  stick.  Squatting  upon 
their  haunches  before  the  fire,  they  at  once 
fiUed  their  pipes  with  tobacco,  lighted  them 


8S 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


with  coals  from  the  fire,  and  blissfully  puffed 
in  silence  for  several  minutes. 

"  How  are  Manikawan  and  her  mother  t  " 
Bob  presently  inquired. 

"  The  mother  is  well,  but  the  maiden  has 
grieved  long  because  White  Brother  of  the 
Snow  never  returns,"  answered  Sishetakushin. 
"  She  watches  for  him  when  the  Spirit  of  the 
Wind  speaks  in  the  tree-tops.  She  watches 
when  the  moon  is  bright  and  the  shadow  spir- 
its are  abroad.  She  watches  when  the  evil 
spirits  of  the  storm  are  raging  in  fury  through 
the  forest.  She  watches  always,  and  is  sad. 
Young  men  have  sought  her  liand  to  wife,  but 
she  has  denied  them.  White  Brother  of  the 
Snow  will  return.  He  will  come  again  to  our 
lodge,  and  the  maiden  will  be  joyful." 

Shad  was  unable  to  understand  a  word  of 
this,  but  Bob's  face  told  him  plainly  that  some- 
thing not  altogether  pleasant  to  the  lad  had 
been  said. 

"  I  cannot  go  now,"  said  Bob,  speaking  in 
the  Indian  tongue.  "  We  must  build  our 
lodges  and  lay  our  trails.  Winter  will  soon  be 
upon  us  and  we  must  have  the  lodges  built 
before  the  Frost  Spirit  freezes  the  earth." 


OLD  FRIENDS  8S 

"  Si8hetakn8h.n's  lodge  is  always  open  to 
White  Brother  of  the  Snow.  It  is  pitched 
upon  the  shores  of  the  Great  Lake,'  two-days' 
journey  to  the  northward.  The  trail  is  plain. 
It  lies  through  two  lakes  and  along  water  run- 
•  Ding  to  the  Great  Lake.  The  maiden  is  wait- 
ing for  White  Brother  of  the  Snow.  He  was 
made  one  of  our  people.    He  is  welcome.  " 

The  Indians  had  risen  to  go,  and  Bob  pre- 
sented them  with  a  package  of  tea,  as  a  part- 
ing gift,  which  they  accepted. 

"  White  Brother  of  the  Snow  will  come  to 
our  lodge  soon  and  bring  with  him  his  friend," 
said  Sishetakushin,  in  accepting  the  tea,  and 
he  and  Mookoomahn,  like  shadows,  disap- 
peared into  the  forest. 

"  Injuns  be  queer  folk,  but  they  were  good 
friends  t'  me  when  I  were  needin'  friends," 
said  Bob,  when  the  Indians  were  gone. 


i>,:^:s^:'^z'''''''''''^''''"'"''''^'^''^'''-'<^on 


I'll 


vn 

WHERE  THE  EVIL  SPIRITS  DWELL 

FROM  the  river  tilt,  as  they  called  it, 
where  their  camp  was  pitched,  the  Big 
Hill  trail  led  to  the  northwest  for  fif- 
teen miles,  then  fifteen  miles  to  the  westward, 
where  it  took  a  sharp  turn  to  the  northward, 
in  which  direction  it  continued  for  nearly 
thirty  miles,  then  again  swung  to  the  west- 
ward for  fifteen  mile-j,  where  it  terminated 
on  the  shores  of  a  small  lake.  This  was  the 
trail  previously  hunted  by  Bob. 

Douglas  Campbell  had  visited  the  Big  Hill 
trail  the  preceding  winter,  but  had  not  re- 
mained to  hunt,  and  it  had  therefore  been  un- 
occupied during  the  winter.  For  the  season 
at  hand  it  had  been  transferred  to  Dick  Blake, 
while  Dick's  own  trail,  farther  down  the  river, 
was  to  remain  untenanted,  and  the  animals 
given  an  opportunity  to  increase.  Di  ectly 
below  the  Big  Hill  trail  and  adjoining  it  was 
Bii:  Campbell's  trail. 
M 


WHERE  THE  EVIL  SPIRITS  DWELL     M 

Bob  had  been  informed  by  Mountaineer  In- 

Aans  who  camped  during  a  portion  of  each 

follow^g  a  stream  flowing  into  the  river  a 
^hortd^tance  above  the  ri ..  tilt  of  the  Big 

^J^'^lo^  '  west-northwe.terIy' 

"",  ne  would  find  a  series  of  lakes  run 
n  ng  almost  parallel  with  the  river,  and  iZ 
between  the  river  and  the  Big  Hill  trail."^  * 

lakes  had  at  one  time  been  an  Indian  portage 
route  around  the  Great  Falls  of  the  Grand 
Bjver,  but  for  m.ny  years  it  had  been  gene" 
ally  avoided  by  Indians  because  of  its  prox 
-%  to  the  falls,  which  were  suppo       to  bj 
he  abode  of  evil  spirits,  a  superSion  d  ubt 
less  ansing  from  the  fact  that  Indian  canoes 
^y  have  been  caught  in  the  current  above  the 

i:e:m:•"^'^'"*'"•="°°^«^ 

falls  themselves,  whose  thunderous  roar  may 
l^^heard  for  many  miles,  echoing  through  tS 

rar^erbefn'/"*  ^'^^  '^'^  "'^•''"  ^«<^  "ut 
rarely  been  traversed,  and  had  certainly  not 

been  hunted  by  Indians  for  many  generaLrs! 


86 


THE  GAUNT  GRA\   WOLF 


fl:^^' 


and  that  the  aiiiiuals  witliiu  thu  coniiidcrable 
territory  which  it  embraced  liad  therefore 
been  iiermitted  to  increase  undisturbed  by 
man,  Bob  argued  that  i'  miist  of  necessity 
prove  a  rich  trapping  grouuu  for  the  first  who 
ventured  to  invade  it.  It  was  here,  tlien,  that 
he  purposed  establishing  his  ?.<-A  trapping 
trail. 

The  first  step  to  be  taken  was  to  make  a 
survey  of  the  region,  and  with  a  quantity  of 
steel  traps,  a  limited  supply  of  provisions,  and 
Shad's  light  tent,  the  two  young  adventurers 
set  forward  in  the  canoe  upon  their  scouting 
journey  within  the  hour  after  Sishetakushin 
und  Mookoomahn  had  left  them. 

A  long  portage  and  the  ascent  of  a  stream 
for  several  miles  carried  them  that  evening 
to  the  first  of  the  series  of  lakes,  where  Bob's 
trained  eye  soon  discovered  unquestionable 
signs  of  an  abur.dance  of  fur-bearing  ani- 
mals, sustaining  his  hope  that  the  ground 
would  be  found  virgin  and  profitable  terri- 
tory. 

Their  camp  was  pitched  by  the  lake  shore. 
At  their  back  lay  the  dark  forest,  before  them 
spread  the  shimmering  lake,  and  to  the  west- 


WHEHK  THE  KVIL  SPIRTS  DWELL  8T 
ward  a  high  hill  lifted  its  barren  poak  of 
weather-beaten,  storm-scoured  rocks. 

The  atmosphere  became  cool  as  eveninir  ar,. 
preached,  and  when  supper  was  disposed  ot 
the  flre  was  renewed,  and,  weary  with  their 
day  8  work,  they  recline.l  before  its  genial 
blaze  to  watch  the  sun  go  do«-n  in  an  effnl- 
gence  of  glory  and  colour. 
Neither  spoke  until  the  colours  were  well- 

2t!      '"'' ""'  ^''^  '*""  *"''°'''''^  ''^''"'y 

"  The   most   glorious    sunset    I   ever   be 
See  '""'""''"^  ^^"^  ^°"'^'  ^''"^'""^  ""^ 
"  'Tirere  fine!  "  admitted  Bob.    "  We  sees 
un  often  in  here,  this  time  o'  year.     They 
makes  me  think  o'  what  the  Bible  says  th'  holy 
P  ace  m  th'  temple  was  f  be  like-'  A  veil  o' 
blue  an-  purple  an'  scarlet.'    I'm  wonderin', 
now,  .f  th'  Lard  weren't  makin'  these  sunsets 
u  t  t    show  what  th'  holy  niace  be  like,  an' 
t   keep  us  from  forgettin'  un.    I'm  wonde.  in' 
If   tisn't  a  b.t  o' th' holy  place  in  th  temple 
set^r'"'  '^'  ^''^''  «'^°^-'"'  »«  i"  them  sun- 

"  I  doii't  know,"  said  Shad;  "  I  don't  re- 


88 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


member  it.    I  must  confeBs  I  never  read  my 

Bible  very  much." 

"I'll  read  un  to  yon  from  my  Bible  when 
day  comes,"  promised  Bob. 

Presently  the  aurora  borealis  flashed  up 
upon  the  sky  with  the  effect  of  a  thousand 
powerful  searchlights,  the  long  fingers  of  light 
rising  from  the  northern  horizon  to  the  zenith 
and  flashing  from  east  to  west  in  a  maze  of 
every-changing  colour— now  white— now  red 
— aow  yellow.  It  "as  a  scene  not  only  beauti- 
ful, but  weird  and  awe-inspiring. 

"I'm  thinkin',  now,  o'  th'  northern  lights," 
remarked  Bob,  when  they  hpd  watched  them 
for  some  time,  "  that  they's  flashes  o'  light 
from  heaven.  I'm  thinkin'  th'  Lard  sends  un 
t'  give  us  promise  o'  th'  glories  we'll  have 
when  we  dies." 

"  That  is  a  cheerful  thought,  at  least,"  ;>d- 
mitted  Shad. 

"  Yes,  'tis  cheerin'.  Leastways,  they  al- 
ways cheers  me  when  I  see  un,"  declared 
Bob. 

"Whenever  I  see  them  after  this,"  said 
Shad,  "  I  shall  remember  your  sugges- 
tion—that they  are  the  reflected  glory  of 


WHERE  THE  EVIL  SPIRITS  DWELL     89 

heaven,   gent  to  inspire  the  dwellers  upon 
earth." 

As  they  arose  to  retire  to  their  tent  tl  dead 
silence  of  the  wilderness  was  startled  by  the 
uncanny  cry  of  a  loon.  Bob  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment and  listened.  Then,  tiiving  to  the  tent, 
he  remarked: 

"  'Tis  a  bad  sign,  when  a  loon  laughs  at 
night  like  that!  " 

"  In  what  way!  "  asked  Shad. 

"  'Tis  said  t'  be  a  warnin'  o'  dange  an' 
trouble." 

In  a  series  of  portages  from  lake  to  lake  they 
passed  the  next  day  through  six  lakes  of  vary- 
ing size,  caching  traps  now  and  again  at  con- 
venient points  for  future  use. 

All  the  afternoon  a  low,  rumbling  sound  was 
to  be  heard.  Time  and  again  they  halted  to 
listen.  It  was  a  changeless,  sullen,  muffled 
roar.  Finally,  when  they  reached  the  sixth 
lake,  later  in  the  afternoon,  their  curiosity  got 
the  better  of  them  and  they  climbed  a  barren 
eminence  to  investigate.  As  they  neared  the 
summit  the  roar  increased  in  volume,  and 
when  they  reached  the  top  and  looked  to  the 
southward  they  beheld  a  cloud  of  vapour. 


II     ■ ' 


90  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

"  'Tis  th'  Great  Falls  o'  th'  Injuns!  "  ex- 
claimed Bob. 

"Where  the  evil   spirits  dwell?"  asked 
Shad. 

"  Aye,  where  th'  evil  spirits  dwell." 
Around  them  lay  a  rugged  scene  of  sub- 
Arctic  grandeur.  To  the  eastward  the  coun- 
try was  dotted  with  a  network  of  small  lakes 
similar  to  those  through  which  they  had  been 
travelling,  while  to  the  northward  a  much 
larger  lake  appeared.  The  shores  of  these 
lakes  supported  a  forest  of  black  spruce,  but 
every  rise  of  ground  was  destitute  of  other 
growth  than  the  gray  caribou  lichen  which 
everywhere  carpets  the  Labrador  forest. 

"  There's  a  grand  chance  t'  lay  th'  trails  " 
said  Bob.  "  We'll  be  makin'  our  trails  along 
th'  s'uth'ard  lakes  an'  up  t'  that  big  lake, 
an'  Ed's  among  th'  lakes  t'  th'  n'uth'ard." 

"  I'd  like  to  see  those  falls,"  suggested 
Shad.  "  Can 't  we  take  the  morning  off  to  visit 
them?  " 

"  An'  you  wants,"  agreed  Bob.  "  We'll  be 
bnildin'  a  tilt  down  where  th'  canoe  is  an' 
another  on  th'  first  lake,  an'  I'm  thinkin' 
another  on  th'  big  lake  above." 


WHERE  THE  EVIL  SPIRITS  DWELL    91 

Accordingly  the  following  morning,  leaving 
their  camp  pitched  and  their  canoe  on  the  lake 
shore,  they  turned  southward  upon  an  explor- 
ing expedition.  Their  tramp  carried  them 
across  a  series  of  ridges  and  bogs  and  finally 
into  a  forest.  With  every  step  the  roar  in- 
creased, and  at  length  they  could  plainly  feel 
the  earth  tremble  beneath  their  feet. 

Suddenly  they  emerged  from  the  forest  to 
behold  a  scene  of  wild  and  sublime  grandeur 
They  stood  at  the  very  brink  of  a  mighty 
chasm.    From  far  above  them  the  river  rushed 
down,  a  stupendous  torrent  of  foam-crested 
billows  and  swirling  whirlpools,  impatient  to 
make  its  leap  into  the  depths  at  their  feet 
where  it  was  presently  to  be  swallowed  up  in 
a  bank  of  mist,  which  shimmered  beneath  the 
two  adventurers  like  a  giant  opal  lighted  by 
all  the  colours  of  the  rainbow.*     Below  the 
rainbow-coloured   mist   the   river  again   ap- 
peared, rushing  in  fearful  power  past  bee- 
tling, frowning  cliffs,  which  directly  hid  it 
from  view.    The  very  rocks  upon  which  they 
stood  trembled,  and  a  reverberating  roar  rose 

•These  are  the  Grand  Fall,  of  Ubrador.     The  river  fall, 
three  hundred  and  sixteen  feet  with  a  .ingle  leap. 


92 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


'■ 


from  the  canyon  at  their  feet,  so  loud  that  con- 
versation was  well-nigh  impossible. 

For  half  an  hour  they  stood  enthralled  by 
the  scene,  then  they  turned  up  the  river,  walk- 
ing along  its  bank. 

"  'Tis  an  awful  place  down  there,"  re- 
marked  Bob.  "  I'm  not  wonderin',  now,  th' 
Injuns  thinks  'tis  possessed  by  evil  spirits." 

"  It  is  the  most  sublime  scene  I  ever  be- 
held," declared  Shad.  "  One  glimpse  of  it 
18  worth  all  the  trouble  we've  had  in  gettinir 
here." 

The  river  gradually  widened,  but  always 
Wth  a  strong  current,  even  above  the  heavy 
white  rapids,  until  some  five  miles  above  the 
falls  it  expanded  into  a  large  island-dotted 
lake.  At  the  extreme  lower  end  of  this  lake 
the  old  Indian  portage  trail  was  discovered, 
and  following  it  the  explorers  late  in  the  day 
reached  their  camp. 

The  following  weeks  were  devoted  to  the 
erection  of  tilts-small  log  cabins  to  be  used 
in  winter  as  shelter.  One  was  established  well 
up  the  shores  of  the  large  lake  expansion 
above  the  falls,  another  upon  the  shores  of  the 
lake  from  which  they  had  made  their  excur- 


WHERE  THE  EVIL  SPIRITS  DWELL     93 

sion  to  the  falls,  and  still  another  upon  the 
first  lake  above  the  river  tilt  of  the  Big  Hill 
trail,  whUe  to  the  northward  near  other  lakes 
fonr  other  tilts  were  erected,  at  convenient 
distances  apart,  for  Ed's  use. 

These  tilts  were  all  constructed  upon  the 
same  general  plan.  They  were  on  an  average 
about  eight  by  ten  feet  in  size,  with  a  slightly 
sloping  roof  so  low  in  the  rear  Bob  could 
scarcely  stand  erect. 

The  chinks  between  the  logs  were  filled  with 
caribou  moss.  The  roof  logs  were  covered 
with  boughs,  over  which  was  spread  first  a 
blanket  of  moss  and  then  a  coating  of  six 
mches  of  earth.  Each  was  provided  with  a 
doorway  about  four  feet  in  height  and  two  and 
a  half  feet  wide,  which  was  fitted  with  a  door 
constructed  of  lashed  saplings  covered  with 
bark. 

Within,  a  platform  of  flat  "tones  was  ar- 
ranged to  accommodate  the  sheet-iron  stove 
with  a  stove-pipe  hole  through  the  roof  di- 
rectly over  it. 

Long,  springy  saplings  were  utilised  in 
erecting  bunks  at  the  rear  and  along  the  side 
of  the  tilt  opposite  the  stove.    These  were 


94 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


later  to  be  covered  with  spruce  boughs,  and 
would  serve  both  as  beds  and  seats,  and  were 
elevated  some  eighteen  inches  above  the  earth 
floor. 

"  They'll  be  warm  an'  snug,"  said  Bob. 
"  When  frosty  weather  an'  winter  comes  th' 
snow  soon  banks  un  up  an'  covers  un  up,  roof 
and  all,  and  makes  nn  good  an'  tight." 

"  But  how  do  you  get  air  enough  to 
breathe!  "  asked  Shad. 

"  Th'  stove-pipe  hole  is  made  plenty  big," 
explained  Bob,  "an'  that  lets  th'  bad  air  out, 
an'  we  mostly  has  a  snow  tunnel  leadin'  t' 
th'  door  so  th'  wind  won't  strike  in,  an'  leavin' 
th'  door  off,  th'  good  air  comes  in." 

Nearly  four  weeks  had  been  consumed  in 
this  work,  and  without  waiting  for  the  reap- 
pearance of  their  friends  they  began  at  once 
the  distribution  of  supplies  among  the  tilts, 
for  September  was  nearly  spent  and  winter 
would  be  upon  them  by  mid-October,  when  ice 
in  the  lakes  would  render  the  canoe  useless. 

Therefore,  with  all  haste  they  proceeded 
with  their  first  canoeload  of  provisions  to  the 
farthest  tilt,  built  upon  the  shores  of  the  lake 
expansion  above  the  falls. 


WHERE  THE  EVIL  SPIRITS  DWELL     95 

It  was  mid-forenoon  of  a  beautiful,  trans- 
parent September  day  when  they  reached  the 
tut  The  supplies  were  quickly  stowed  be- 
neath the  bunks,  the  tent  stove  erected,  and, 
halting  only  long  enough  to  make  tea,  they 
launched  their  canoe  for  the  return. 

"  We'll  be  makin'  th'  river  tilt'before  we 
sleeps,'-  said  Bob.  "  They's  a  moon,  an'  we'll 
finish  by  moonlight,  an'  to-morrow  we'll  be 
gettm'  out  with  th'  next  load.  If  we  travels 
fast  we  can  make  th'  river  tilt  before  mid- 
night, whatever!  " 

The  portage  trail  left  the  river  at  a  point 
some  ten  miles  below  the  tilt,  and  as  previ- 
ously stated,  at  the  lower  end  of  the  lake 
where  the  current  began  to  gather  strength 
tor  its  final  tumultuous  rush  toward  the  falls 
They  had  paddled  the  distance  in  two  hours 
and    were    congratulating   themselves    upon 
their  good  progress  as  they  turned  the  canoe 
toward  the  portage  landing,  when  suddenly 
they  were  startled  by  a  burst  of  wild,  blood- 
curdlmg  whoops,  and  a  half-dozen   strange 
Lidians,  guns  levelled,  rose  upon  the  shore. 
"  Mingens!  "  exclaimed  Bob. 
A  warning  in  the  Indian  tongue  was  shouted 


96 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


at  them  that  they  must  not  attempt  to  land. 
A  shot  was  fired  over  their  heads  to  emphasise 
the  fact  that  the  savages  were  in  earnest,  and 
with  no  alternative,  and  taken  wholly  hy  sur- 
prise. Shad  at  the  steersman's  paddle  astern, 
swung  the  canoe  out  into  the  stream,  still  con- 
tinuing down  the  river. 

"Upstream I  Upstream!  Turn  about!" 
shouted  Bob. 

In  the  excitement  and  confusion  that  fol- 
lowed the  first  few  moments  after  the  attack, 
much  valuable  time  had  been  lost  in  inef- 
fectual manoeuvres,  and  when  the  canoe  was 
finally  turned  about  they  were  far  out  into 
the  stream,  and  it  was  found  that  the  insidious 
current  had  caught  them.  Bob  was  the  first 
to  recognise  the  danger,  and  in  a  sharp,  tense 
voice  he  commanded : 

"Quick!  \7oTk  for  your  life!  If  th' rapid 
gets  us,  'twill  carry  us  over  th'  falls!  " 

Then  they  paddled— paddled  as  none  had 
ever  paddled  before.  But  already  the  power- 
ful current  had  them  in  its  grip.  Slowly — 
slowly — but  with  increasing  speed  they  were 
drifting  toward  the  awful  cataract. 

They  would  have  braved  the  Indians  now. 


WHERE  THE  EVIL  SPIRITS  DWELL   97 

and  attempted  a  landing,  but  from  a  point 
directly  below  the  portage  trail,  and  extending 
to  the  white  water  of  the  heavy  rapids  the 
river  bank  rose  in  a  perpendicular  rampart  of 
amooth-scoured  rock,  a  full  ten  feet  in  height, 
offering  no  possible  foothold. 

For  a  little  while  they  hoped,  as  they 
worked  like  madmen.  Then  the  full  import 
of  their  position  dawned  upon  them— that  they 
were  hopelessly  drifting  tow.  rd  the  brink  of 
the  awful  cataract. 

Beads  of  cold  perspiration  broke  out  upon 
their  foreheads.  A  sickening  numbness  came 
into  their  hearts,  and  as  in  a  dream  they  heard 
the  derisive,  exultant  yells  of  the  savages  upon 
the  shore. 


vm 

AFTER  THE  INDIAN  ATTACK 

BELOW  tliem  rose  the  appalling  roar  of 
the  hungry  rapids  and  the  dull,  thun- 
derous, monotonous  undertone  of  the 
falls  themselves. 

Before  their  vision  a  vivid  p'cture  passed  of 
the  scene  they  had  so  recently  beheld  -the  on- 
rushing,  white  piled  billows  above  the  cata- 
ract, gathering  strength  for  their  mighty  leap 
—the  final  plunge  of  the  resistless  torrent— 
the  bank  of  rainbow-coloured  mist  hovering 
in  space  over  a  dark  abyss— and  far  below  and 
beyond  the  mist-bank  the  murky  chasm,  where 
a  white  seething  flood  was  beating  its  wild 
anger  out  against  jagged  rocks  in  its  mad  en- 
deavour to  fight  its  way  to  freedom  between 
narrow  canyon  walls  rising  in  frowning  cliffs 
on  either  side. 

Impotent  to  resist  the  power  that  was  draw- 
ing tiem  down,  Shad  Trowbridge  and  Ungava 
Bob  were  certain  beyond  a  doubt  that  pres- 
>8 


AFTER  THE  INDIAN  ATTACK  99 
ently  they  were  to  be  hurled  into  this  awful 
chasm,  and  that  in  all  human  probability  but 
8  few  minutes  more  of  life  remained  to  them. 
Then  suddenly  there  flashed  upon  Bob's 
memory  the  recollection  of  an  island  which  he 
had  observed  when  walking  along  the  river 
bank  from  th.  falls  to  the  portage  trail. 

He  remembered  that  this  island  was  of  curi- 
ous formation,  with  high  polished  cliffs  rising 
on  its  upper  end  and  on  either  side,  like  bul- 
warks to  guard  it  from  the  rushing  tide. 

At  its  lower  end  a  long,  low,  gravelly  point 
reached  downward,  like  a  pencil  point,  among 
the  swirling  eddies.  The  gravel  which  formed 
this  point,  he  had  remarked  at  the  time,  had 
been  deposited  by  the  eddies  created  by  the 
meeting  of  the  waters  where  they  rushed  to- 
gether from  either  side  below  the  island. 

With  the  recollection  of  the  island  came  also 
a  realisation  that  here  possibly  lay  a  means  of 
escape.  A  quick  estimate  of  the  distance  they 
had  already  drifted  below  the  portage  trail 
satisfied  him  that  they  were  still  perhaps  half 
a  mile  above  the  island,  and  probably  not  too 
far  amidstream  to  enable  them  to  swing  in 
upon  it  before  it  was  passed,  in  which  case  a 


100  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

landing  might  be  made  with  comparative  ease 
upon  the  gravelly  point. 

The  canoe,  as  previously  stated,  was  head- 
ing upstream,  with  Bob  in  the  bow,  Shad  in 
the  stem.  It  was  necessary  that  they  turn 
around  and  secure  a  view  of  the  river  in  order 
to  avoid  possible  reefs  near  the  island  shore, 
and  to  properly  pick  an  available  landing 
place. 

But  to  attempt  to  turn  the  canoe  itself 
in  the  swift  current  would  in  all  probability 
result  in  fatal  delay.    Therefore,  acting  upon 
the  moment's  instinct.  Bob  ceased  paddling, 
arose,  a  d  himself  quickly  tunied,  seating  him- 
self face  to  the  stern,  shouting  to  Shad  as  he 
did  so: 
"Tumi    I'll  steer!" 
Shad  had  no  doubt  Bob  had  become  de- 
mented, but  without  question  obeyed  the  com- 
mand. In  this  position  what  had  previously 
been  the  stem  of  the  canoe  now  became  the 
bow,  Shad  Trowbridge  the  bowman  and  Un- 
gava  Bob  the  steersman. 

The  moment  paddling  ceased  the  canoe  shot 
forward  in  the  current,  heading  toward  the 
white  waters  of  the  rapids.    The  manceuvre 


AFTER  THE  INDUN  ATTACK  101 
had  not  been  made  a  moment  too  soon,  for 
directly  before  ibem,  a  little  to  the  left,  lay 
the  island. 

With  a  fi.i.k,  dexterous  turn  of  the  paddle 
Bob  swung  the  canoe  toward  the  island  shore 
farthest  from  the  mainland  and,  close  under 
the  cliflfs,  caught  the  retarding  shore  current. 
A  few  seconds  later  the  bow  of  the  little  craft 
ground  upon  the  gravelly  point,  Shad  sprang 
ashore.  Bob  at  his  heels,  and  the  canoe  was 
drawn  afte.  them  to  safety. 

For  a  moment  Bob  and  Shad  looked  at  each 
other  in  silence,  then  Shad  txclaimed  simply 
"Thank  God  I"  ^^ 

"  Aye,"  said  Bob  reverently,  "  thank  th' 
Lard.  He  were  watchin '  an  •  guardin '  us  when 
we  were  thinkin '  we  was  lost.  'Tis  th '  Lard 's 
way.  Shad." 

"My  God,  Bobl  Look  at  that!  "  exclaimed 
Shad,  pointiug  toward  the  mad  white  waters 
below  them.  "  If  you  hadn't  thought  of  this 
island,  Bob,  we'd  be  in  there  now-in  there- 
dead!  My  God,  what  an  escape!  And  such 
a  death  I  " 

Shad  sank  upon  a  bowlder,  white  and  trem- 
bling.   He  was  no  coward,  but  he  was  hig.   r 


IM  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

imaginative  at  time*.  During  the  trying 
period  in  tlie  cnnoe  he  was  cool  and  brave. 
He  had  done  his  part  at  the  paddle  equally  as 
well  as  Bob.  He  would  have  gone  to  his  death 
without  a  visible  tremor.  But  now  the  reac- 
tion had  come,  and  his  imagination  ran  riot 
with  his  reason. 

"  Why,  Shad,  what's  th'  matter  nowt  " 
asked  Bob  solicitously.  "  Were  th'  strab  at 
th'  paddle  too  mucht    Yon  looks  sick." 

"  No— I'm  all  right— jnst  foolish.  I'm 
afraid  you'll  think  I'm  not  game,  Bob." 

"  Oh,  but  I  knows  you  is,  Shad.  I  seen  you 
turned  over  in  th'  Bay,  Shad— an'  I  knows 
you'm  wonderful  brave." 

"  Thank  you,  Bob.  I  hope  I  deserve  your 
opinion." 

"  I  were  terrible  scairt  first,  when  I  finds 
th'  canoe's  slippin'  back  toward  th'  rapid  an' 
I'm  seein'  no  way  t'  land,"  said  Bob.  "  Then 
I  stops  bein'  scairt  an'  has  a  feelin'  that  I 

don't  care " 

"  Just  as  I  felt,"  broke  in  Shud.    "  A  sort 
of  hopeless  speculation  on  what  A'as  going  to 
happen,  but  not  much  caring." 
"Aye,"  continued  Bob.    "Then  I  thinks 


AFTEn  THE  INDIAN  ATTACK  103 
'twill  be  sore  Lard  on  Mother-my  never  goin' 
home-an'  I  prays  th'  Lard  f  bolp  u». 
an'  Boon's  I  says  '  Amen  '  I  thinks  o'  this 
island.  'Twere  th'  Lard  puts  un  in  my  head, 
Shad." 

"  I  think,"  said  Shad,  "  it  was  your  quick 
wit  and  resourcefulness.  Bob." 

"  No,"  Bob  insisted  positively,  "  'twere  th' 
Lard.  An',  Shad,  we  must  be  thankin'  th' 
i-drd  now." 

Then  Ungava  Bob  and  Shad  Trowbridge 
knelt  by  the  side  of  the  boulder,  the  former 
reverently,  the  latter  courteously,  while  Bob 
prayed  aloud: 

"  Dear  Lard,  Shad  and  me  is  wonderf"! 
thankful  that  you  p'inted  out  t'  us  th'  landin' 
place  on  this  island,  an'.  Lard,  we  wants  t' 
thank  you.  We  knows.  Lard,  if  you  hadn't 
been  p'intin'  she  out  t'  us,  we'd  be  dead  in  th' 
rapids  now,  or  handy  f  un.  We'll  never  be 
forgettin'.  An',  Lard,  keop  clost  t'  Shad  an' 
me  always.    Amen." 

"  That,'  'said  Shad,  when  they  rose  to  their 
feet,  "  was  the  most  honest,  simple,  straight- 
forward prayer  I  ever  heard  offered.  Thank 
you.  Bob,  for  including  me.    If  the  Lord  hears 


101 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


prayers,  Bob,  He  heard  yours,  for  it  was  hon- 
est and  from  the  heart  and  to  the  point." 

"  He  hears  un,  Shad,  an'  He  answers  un." 
There  was  a  note  of  conviction  in  Bob's  tone 
that  left  no  room  for  doubt. 
"  We're  here,  because  we're  here,  because 

we're  here "  Shad  began  to  sing.    "  Bob, 

I'm  feeling  all  right  now,  and  I  guess  I've  got 
my  nerve  back  again.  Foolish,  wasn't  it,  to 
get  frightened  after  it  was  all  overt  Let's 
see,  now,  what  the  prospects  are  of  getting 
away." 

From  an  eminence  in  the  centre  of  the 
island  they  surveyed  their  surroundings.  The 
mainland  lay  not  more  than  a  short  stone's 
throw  away,  but  between  it  and  the  island  the 
water  ran  as  swift  as  a  mill  race.  Some  two 
hundred  yards  below  the  point  on  which  they 
had  landed  the  heavy  white  rapids  began,  and 
with  but  one  exception  the  perpendicular  wall 
of  rock  that  formed  the  mainland  shore  ex- 
tended to  and  beyond  the  white  water. 

This  exception  occurred  about  half-way  be- 
tween the  island  and  the  heavy  rapids,  where 
for  a  distance  of  some  six  or  eight  yards  frost 
action  had  caused  disintegration  of  the  rock. 


AFTER  THE  INDUN  ATTACK      105 

and  the  wall  sloped  down  toward  the  river  at 
an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees. 

At  the  foot  of  this  slope,  and  on  a  level  with 
the  water,  a  narrow  platform  had  been  formed 
by  the  dislodged  portion  of  the  rock.  Under 
the  most  favourable  conditions  exceedingly  ex- 
pert eanoemen  might  succeed  in  making  a 
landing  here,  but  it  was  plain  that  the  foot- 
hold offered  was  so  narrow  and  so  unstable 
that  any  attempt  to  make  a  landing  upon  it 
would  prove  perilous  and  more  than  likely 
fatal. 

The  island  itself  was  oblong  in  shape  and 
contained  an  area  of  three  or  four  acres.  Its 
rocky  surface  sustained  a  scant  growth  of 
gnarled  black  spruce  and  stunted  white  birch, 
with  here  and  there  patches  of  brush. 

From  their  vantage  point  no  sign  of  the  In- 
dians who  had  caused  their  trouble  could  be 
seen,  and  it  was  evident  they  had  not  de- 
scended the  river  bank  below  the  portage  trail. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  it,  Bob?  " 
Shad  asked. 

"  I'm  thinkin',  now,  th'  Injuns  are  headin' 
for  th'  tilt  up  th'  river,  an'  that  they'll  be 
cleanin'  un  out  an'  burnin'  un.    Th'  Injuns 


106  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

t'  th'  post  tells  me  they  never  comes  below 
th  portage.  They's  afraid  o'  th'  evil  spirits 
o'  th'  falls.  But  they  goes  back  in  th'  coun- 
try sometimes  an'  circles  around  by  th'  Big 
Hill  trail." 

"  But  what  do  you  think  of  trying  to  cross, 
and  make  a  landing  down  there  where  the  rock 
slopes'/  "  inquired  Shad. 

"We'd  never  make  un,  Shad,"  decided  Bob. 
"  I  Imows  th'  handlin'  o'  boats.  I'm  too  un- 
certain in  a  canoe,  an'  so  be  you.  Shad." 

"  What  are  we  to  do,  then?  We  can't  stay 
here,"  insisted  Shad. 

"  I'm  not  knowin'  yet.  They'll  be  some  way 
showin',"  promised  Bob,  "  but  we'll  have  t' 
think  un  out  first." 

"  What  was  the  matter  with  those  Indians, 
anyway?  I  thought  all  the  Indians  were' 
friendly  to  white  men,"  Shad  asked,  as  they 
turned  down  again  to  the  canoe. 

"  They's  Mingen  Injuns,"  explained  Bob. 
"  I  were  forgettin'  t'  tell  you,  Shad.  When 
we  was  t'  th'  post,  Douglas  Campbell  tells 
me  that  last  fall  some  Mingens  comes  t'  th' 
last  tilt  0'  th'  Big  Hill  trail  an'  tells  he  they'd 
not  let  any  white  trapper  hunt  above  th'  Big 


AFTER  THE  INDUN  ATTACK      lOT 

Hill  trail.  They's  likely  seen  our  tilt  up  th' 
river,  an'  laid  for  us.  I'm  sorry,  now,  I  wore 
bringin'  you  here  an'  not  tellin'  you,  Shad." 

"  Oh,  don't  worry  about  that.  Bob.  I'd 
have  come  just  the  same,"  assured  Shad. 
"  In  fact,  I'd  have  been  all  the  more  ready 
to  come,  "ith  the  prospect  of  a  scrap  with  In- 
dians in  view.  If  I'd  known,  though,  I'd  have 
had  my  eyes  open  and  my  rifle  ready,  and 
dropped  a  bullet  or  two  among  them  before  we 
got  caught  in  the  current." 

"  Injuns  were  never  givin'  me  trouble  be- 
fore, an'  I  weren't  takin'  their  threatenin' 
t '  Douglas  in  earnest,  so  I  forgets  all  about  un 
till  I  sees  th'  Injuns  at  th'  portage  trail,"  Bob 
explained. 

"  'Twouldn't  have  done  t'  kill  any  of 
un.  Shad.  If  you  had,  th'  rest  would  have 
laid  in  th'  bushes  an'  killed  u  lOr  they's  no 
knowin'  how  many  they  is  of  un.  Then  they'd 
gone  back  an'  laid  for  Ed  an'  Dick  an'  Bill 
an'  killed  they  before  they'd  be  knowin'  they 
was  any  trouble. 

"  Now  'tis  more':!  likely  th'  Injuns  is 
thinkin'  we  be  th'  only  white  men  about, 
an'  when   we   thinks   up   a   way   o'   gettin' 


108    THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

out  o'  here  we'll  give  wamin'  t'  Ed  an'  th' 
others,  an'  being  on  th'  lookout  one  of  us 
can  hold  off  a  hull  passel  o'  Injuns,  for  we  has 
Winchesters,  an'  all  they  has  is  muzzle-loadin' 
trade  guns." 

"  But  suppose  we  don't  get  off  this  island 
before  the  others  come  to  look  for  us?  What 
then?  "  asked  Shad. 

"  If  they  misses  us  an'  goes  lookin'  for  us, 
they'll  be  knowin'  we're  missin'  for  some 
cause.  Bill  Campbell's  been  hearin'  from  his 
father  what  th'  Mingens  were  sayin'  last-year, 
an'  they'll  suspi2ion  'tis  th'  Mingens  an'  be 
watchin'  for  un." 

"  But  I  don't  understand  yet  what  objec- 
tion the  Mingens  have  to  our  trapping  here.  I 
supposed  this  was  the  country  of  your  Nascau- 
pee  friends." 

"  'Tis  this  way,"  Bob  explained.  "  Th' 
Nascaupees  hunts  t'  th'  n'uth'ard,  th'  Bay 
Mountaineers  t'  th'  east'ard,  an'  th'  Mingens 
t'  th'  s'uth'ard,  an'  all  of  un  comes  in  here- 
abouts t'  get  deer's  meat,  mostly  th'  Mingens, 
when  deer's  scarce-  t'  th'  s'uth'ard,  an'  they 
thinks  if  white  trsppers  is  about  th'  deer '11 
be  drove  out." 


AFTER  THE  INDIAN  ATTACK      109 
"  Well,  Bob,  let's  boil  the  kettle  and  try  to 
figure  out  a  plan  of  escape,"  suggested  Shad. 
"  With  the  reaction  from  the  morning's  ex- 
citement, I'm  developing  a  vast  hunger." 

"  They's  not  a  mouthful  o'  grub  in  th'  bag, 
Shad,"  Bob  announced  sorrowfully,  "  only 
a  bit  0'  tea  with  th'  kettle  an'  our  cups  I 
leaves  un  all  in  th'  tilt,  thinkin'  we'd  get  back 
t'  th'  next  tilt  an'  use  th'  grub  that's  there 
an'  I  just  leaves  th'  bit  o'  tea  in  th'  bag." 

"No  grub  I"  exclaimed  Shad.  "Then 
we've  got  to  try  to  make  a  landing  down  on 
that  wall.    We  can't  stay  here  and  starve!  " 

"  An'  we  can't  make  th'  landin'.  'Twould 
be  sure  drownin'  t'  try." 

"  Then  it  is  just  a  choice  between  drowning 

and  starving?    For  my  part,  I'd  rather  drown 

and  have  it  over  with,  than  starve  to  death!  " 

"  Th'  Lard  weren't  showin'  us  here  just  f 

have  us  die  right  off,"  said  Bob  quietly.   "  He 

were  savin'  us  because  He's  wantin'  us  t' 

live,  an'  He'll  be  thinkin'  if  we  tries  t'  make 

th'  landin'  knowin'  we  can't  make  un,  that 

we're  not  wantin'  f  live.    If  we  takes  time 

DOW  t'  plan  un  out,  th'  Lard'Il  show  ns  how." 

"  I  wish   I  had   your   faith,  Bob,   but  I 


110 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


haven't,  and  I'm  still  in  favour  of  making  a  try 
for  the  shore,"  insisted  Shad.  "  However,  let 
us  make  some  tea  and  argue  the  matter  out 
later." 

"  Aye,  we'll  boil  th'  kettle  an'  talk  un  over, 
whatever,"  agreed  Bob,  rising  from  the  rock 
upon  which  they  had  seated  themselves,  and 
turning  into  the  scant  growth  to  collect  dry 
sticks  for  a  fire. 

But  instead  of  collecting  the  sticks  he  re- 
turned to  the  canoe,  secured  Shad's  double- 
barrelled  shotgun,  and  a  moment  later  Shad, 
who  was  dipping  a  kettle  of  water  for  their 
tea  and  had  not  noticed  the  movement,  was 
startled  by  the  report  of  the  gun.  Looking 
up,  he  saw  Bob  stoop,  reach  into  a  clump  of 
bushes,  and  bring  forth  a  rabbit. 

"  Well,  I'll  be  jiggered!  "  exclaimed  Shad, 
as  Bob  held  his  game  aloft  for  inspection. 
"  I  didn't  supper  there  was  hide  or  hair  or 
feather  on  this  wind-blasted,  forsaken  island 
of  desolation!  " 

"  I  sees  th'  signs,"  said  Bob,  "  an'  then  I 


looks  about 

an' 

sees  th 

'  rabbit. 

Where  they's         | 

one  they's 

like 

t'  be 

quite  a 

passel 

of  un. 

They  likely 

crosses  over  last  winter 

on  th' 

AFTER  THE  INDIAN  ATTACK      111 

ice  an'  th'  break-up  catches  un  here  an-  they 
can't  get  off." 

"  That's  some  relief  to  the  situation.  But 
we've  only  about  a  dozen  shells  in  the  cauoe  " 
announced  Shad,  "  and  when  they  are  gone 
we'll  be  as  badly  off  as  ever." 

"  We'll  not  be  wastin'  shells,  now,  on  rab- 
bits," said  Bob.  "  They's  other  ways  t'  catch 
nn.  I  uses  that  shell  f  get  our  dinner.  I'll 
get  th'  rabbit  ready  now  whilst  you  puts  a  fire 
on." 

"  Very  well,"  agreed  Shad,  collecting  wood 
for  a  fire,  "  and  when  we've  eaten  I  hope  we 
can  think  of  some  way  of  escape." 


IX 


THE  INDIAN  MAIDEN  AT  THE  RIVER 
TILT 


w> 


LL,"  said  Ed  Matheson,  as  the 
boat  rounded  a  bend  in  the  river, 
"  there's  the  river  tilt,  an'  she 
looks  good." 

"  That  she  do,"  agreed  Dick  Blake.  "  I 
hopes,  now,  Bob's  there  an'  has  a  fire  on.  I'm 
wet  t'  th'  last  rag." 

"  So  be  I.  This  snow  an'  rain  comin'  mixed 
always  'pears  t'  make  a  wetter  wet  'n  just  rain 
alone,"  observed  Ed. 

"  Bob's  there  now,"  broke  in  Bill  Camp- 
bell. "  I  sees  smoke  comin'  from  th'  tilt 
pipe." 

The  voyageurs  were  returning  from  Eskimo 
Bay  with  their  second  cargo  of  winter  sup- 
plies for  the  trails.  Five  weeks  had  elapsed 
since  the  morning  Ungava  Bob  and  Shad 
Trowbridge  had  watched  them  disappear 
around  the  river  bend,  and  returning  to  camp 

U3 


THE  INDIAN  JUIDEN  ng 

had  found   Sishetaknsl.in  and   MookoomuLn 
awaiting  them  at  the  edge  of  the  forest. 

Since  early  morning  there  had  been  a  steady 
drizzle  of  snow  and  rain,  accompanied  by  a 
raw  searching,  easterly  wind,  a  condition  of 
weather  that  renders  wilderness  travel  most 
disheartening  and  disagreeabie. 

This  was,  however,  the  first  break  in  a  long 
series  of  delightfully  cool,  transparent  days 
characteristic  of  Labrador  during  the  month 
of  September,  when  Nature  pauses  to  take 
breath  and  assemble  her  forces  preparatory 
to  casting  upon  the  land  the  smothering 
snows  and  withering  blasts  of  a  sub-Arctic 
winter. 

Despite  the  p?<>asant  weather,  the  whole 
journey  from  Eskimo  Bay  had  been  one  of 
tremendous  effort.  With  but  three,  instead 
of  five,  as  on  the  previous  journey,  fg  trans- 
port the  boat  and  carry  the  loads  over  port- 
ages, the  labour  had  been  proportionately 
increased. 

It  was,  then,  with  a  feeling  of  intense  sat- 
isfaction and  relief  that  the  voyageurs  hailed 
the  end  of  their  journey,  with  its  promised 
rest,  when  they  finally  ran  their  boat  to  the 


114 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


landing  below  the  river  tilt  of  the  Big  Hill 
trail. 

"I'll  be  tellin'  Bob  an'  Shad  we're  here 
now,  an'  have  un  help  us  up  with  th'  outfit," 
said  Ed  Matheson  cheerily,  stepping  ashore 
and  striding  up  the  trail  leading  to  the  clear- 
ing a  few  yards  above,  in  the  centre  of  which 
stood  the  trail. 

But  at  the  edge  of  the  clearing  he  stopped 
in  open-mouthed  amazement.  Before  the  open 
door  of  the  tilt  stood  a  tall,  comely  Indian 
maiden,  perhaps  seventeen  ^-ears  of  age.  She 
was  clad  in  fringed  buckskin  garments,  deco- 
rated in  coloured  designs.  Her  hair  hung  in 
two  long  black  braids,  while  around  her  fore- 
head she  wore  a  band  of  dark-red  cloth  orna- 
mented with  intricate  beadwork.  From  her 
shoulder  hung  a  quiver  of  arrows,  and  rest- 
ing against  the  tilt  at  her  side  was  a  long 
bow. 

She  stood  motionless  as  a  statue,  striking, 
picturesque  and  graceful,  and  for  a  full  min- 
ute the  usually  collected  and  loquacious  Ed 
gazed  at  her  in  speechless  surprise. 

"  aood  evenin',"  said  he  finally,  regaining 
his  composure  and  his  power  of  speech  at  the 


THE  INDIAN  MAIDEV  V  i 

same  time.  "  I  weren't  expei-tin'  t'  find  any 
one  here  but  Ungava  Bob  an'  Shad  Toobridge. 
Be  they  in  th'  tilt!  " 

With  Ed's  words  she  took  a  step  forward, 
and  in  evident  excitement  launched  upon  him 
a  torrent  of  Indian  sentences  gjmken  so  rap- 
idly and  with  such  vehemence  that,  though  he 
boasted  a  smattering  of  tlie  language,  he  was 
unable  to  comprehend  in  the  least  what  she 
was  saying.  It  was  evident,  however,  she 
was  addressing  him  upon  some  subject  of 
import. 

"  There  now,"  he  interrupted  finally,  for- 
getting even  his  smattering  of  Indian  and  ad- 
dressing her  in  English,  "just  'bide  there 
a  bit,  lass,  whilst  I  gets  Dick  Blake.  He 
knows  your  lingo  better 'n  me.  I'll  send  he 
up." 

And,  hurrying  down  the  trail,  he  called : 
"  Dick,  come  np  here.    They's  a  Injun  lass 

at  th'  tilt,  firin'  a  lot  o'  lingo  at  me  I  can't 

fathom." 
"  A  Injun  lass !  "  exclaimed  Dick.  "  What's 

she  dob'  there,  nowt    An'  where 's  Bob  an' 

Shad?  " 

"  Yes,  a  Injun  lass,"  said  Ed  impatiently, 


116  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

"an'  what  she's  doin'  you'll  have  t'  find  out. 
It  seems  like  she's  achin'  f  tell  somethin'. 
I'm  not  seein'  Bob  an'  Shad." 

"  They  must  be  somethin'  wrong,  Ed.  Come 
down  an'  help  Bill  get  th'  cargo  ashore,  an' 
I'll  find  out  what  'tis;  "  and  Dick  hurried  up 
the  trail  past  Ed,  to  meet  Manikawan,  for  she 
it  was. 

She  was  still  standing  where  Ed  had  left 
her,  and  Dick  asked  kindly  in  Indian: 

"  What  message  does  the  maiden  bring  to 
her  white  brothers?  " 

"  Listen!  "  she  commanded,  in  a  clear,  mu- 
sical voice.  "  I  am  Manikawan,  the  daughter 
of  Sishetakushin,  whose  lodge  is  pitched  on 
the  shores  of  the  Great  Lake,  to  the  north. 
Yesterday  some  men  of  the  South  visited  the 
lodge  of  my  father." 
"  Mingens!  "  exclaimed  Dick. 
"  They  told  him,"  she  continued,  not  heed- 
ing the  interruption,  "  that  five  suns  back  they 
had  found  a  lodge  built  where  the  big  river 
broadens.  The  lodge  was  newly  made.  It 
was  a  white  man's  lodge,  for  it  was  built  of 
trees.  The  men  of  the  South  waited  in  hiding 
at  the  end  of  the  portage  that  was  once  used 


THE  INDIiV  MAIDEN' 


117 


by  my  people.  It  is  ai  nvc  the  pla  e  where  evil 
spirits  dwell." 

"  How  many  of  the  men  of  the  South  were 
there?  "  asked  Dick,  again  interrupting. 

"  Six,"  she  answered  promptly.  "  While 
they  waited  two  white  men  passed  with  a 
painted  canoe  and  much  provisions.  Then, 
while  they  still  waited,  the  white  men  returned 
with  the  canoe  empty. 

"  They  tired  their  guns  at  the  white  men. 
Then  the  evil  spirits  that  dwell  where  the  river 
falls  reached  up  for  the  canoe  and  dragged 
it  down  to  the  place  of  thunder. 

"  I  have  come  to  tell  you  this,  and  to  ask  if 
White  Brother  of  the  Snow  and  his  friend  are 
here.  All  night  and  all  day  have  I  travelled, 
for  I  am  afraid  for  White  Brother  of  the 
Snow.  He  has  lived  in  the  lodge  of  Sishetaku- 
shin,  my  father.  He  is  one  of  my  people,  and 
I  am  afraid  for  him. ' ' 

Her  rapid  speech,  her  dramatic  pose  and 
gestures,  and  her  intensely  earnest  manner 
left  no  douht  in  Dick  Blake's  mind  that  she 
spoke  the  truth.  Neither  had  he  any  doubt 
that  she  referred  to  Ungava  Bob  and  Shad 
Trowbridge  as  the  two  white  men,  for  no  other 


118 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


white  men  were  in  the  region,  or,  he  was  sure, 
within  several  hundred  miles  of  the  place,  at 
the  time  to  which  she  referred. 

"No,"  said  he,  after  a  moment's  pause, 
"  White  Brother  of  the  Snow  and  his  friend 
are  not  with  us." 

"  They  are  not  here!  "  she  wailed,  lifting 
her  arms  in  a  gesture  of  despair.  "  Where  is 
he?  Tell  me?  It  was  not  White  Brother  of 
the  Snow  sent  to  the  torment  of  evil  spirits  f  " 

"I'm  afraid,  M.mikawan,  it  was.  There 
were  no  other  white  men  here  than  White 
Brother  of  the  Snow  and  his  friend." 

Manikawan's  hands  dropped  at  her  side, 
and  for  an  instant  she  stood,  a  picture  of  min- 
gled horror  and  grief.  But  it  was  for  only 
an  instant.  Then  her  face  grew  hard  and 
vengeful,  and  in  low,  even  tones  she  said: 

"  These  men  of  the  South  killed  White 
Brother  of  the  Snow.  They  are  no  longer 
of  my  people.    They  must  die." 

"  They  must  die,"  echoed  Dick. 

"  Cornel  "  she  said  laconically,  reaching  for 
her  bow  and  slinging  it  on  her  back. 

"  No,  we  will  rest  to-night,  and  to-morrow 
at  dawn  we  will  go.    Rest  to-night  and  be 


THE  INDIAN  MAIDEN 


Hi) 


strong  for  the  chase  to-morrow,"  Dick  coun- 
selled, kindly,  as  she  turned  toward  the  port- 
age trail  leading  around  the  rapids. 

"  I  cannot  rest,"  she  answered.  "  I  go 
now;  "  and  like  a  shadow,  and  as  silently,  she 
melted  into  the  darkening  forest. 

Big  Dick  Blake's  heart  was  full  of  venge- 
ance, as  he  strode  down  the  trail  to  rejoin  his 
companions. 

"  What  speech  were  th'  Injun  maid  tryin' 
t'  get  rid  of,  now!  "  asked  Ed  Matheson, 
pausing  in  his  work  of  unloading  the  canoe 
as  Dick  appeared. 

"  Bob  an'  Shad's  dead!  "  announced  Dick 
bluntly. 

"Dead!  Dead!"  echoed  Ed  and  Bill 
together. 

"  Aye,  dead.  Drove  over  th'  falls  by  Min- 
gen  Injuns,"  continued  Dick.  "  Five  or  six 
days  ago,  she's  sayin'.  They's  six  o'  them 
Injuns  down  north  o'  here,  huntin'  deer,  an' 
their  camp's  up  th'  river  somewheres.  I'm 
not  knowin'  rightly  where,  but  we'll  find  un, 
an'  we'll  shoot  them  Injuns  just  like  a  passel 
o'  wolves.  If  we  don't,  they'll  sure  be  layin' 
for  us  an'  shoot  us." 


ISO 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


"  Be  you  sure,  now,  th'  lads  is  dead!  "  in- 
sisted Ed. 

"  They's  no  doubtin'  it.  She  tells  th'  story 
straight  an'  clean  as  a  rifle  shot;  "  and  Dick 
went  on  to  repeat  in  detail  the  story  he  had 
heard  from  Manikawan. 

"  It  looks  bad,  now,  whatever,"  commented 
Ed.  "  But  they's  a  chanct  they  gets  ashore. 
I  were  caught  onct  in  th'  rapids  above  Musk- 
rat  Falls,  an'  thinks  it  all  up  with  me — right 
in  th'  middle  o'  th'  rapids,  too — an' " 

"  Ed,"  broke  in  Dick,  with  vast  impatience, 
"  this  be  no  time  for  yarnin'.  You  knows  you 
never  could  be  gettin'  out  o'  them  rapids  an' 
not  goin'  over  th'  falls.  An'  these  rapids  is 
a  wonderful  sight  worse." 

"  Maybe  they  be,"  admitted  Ed.  "  Th' 
poor  lad,  now,  bein'  killed  in  that  way.  Dick," 
he  continued,  raising  his  tall,  awkward  figure 
to  its  full  height  and  placing  his  hand  on  Dick's 
shoulder.  "  me  an'  you's  stood  by  one  'nother 
for  a  good  many  years,  an'  in  all  sorts  o'  hard 
places,  an'  if  it's  fight  Injuns  with  you  now, 
Dick,  it's  fight  un,  an'  Bill's  with  us." 

"  Aye,"  said  Bill,  "  that  I  am." 

The  boat  was  unloaded,  and  with  heavy 


THE  INDIAN  MAIDEN 


121 


hearts  the  men  prepared  and  ate  their  evening 
meal.  Then  while  they  smoked  their  pipes, 
light  packs  were  put  up  and  all  was  made  snug 
for  an  early  start  the  following  morning. 
With  the  first  blink  of  dawn  the  three  deter- 
mined men,  armed  with  their  rifles,  swung  out 
into  the  forest,  and  rapidly  but  cautiously  filed 
up  the  old  portage  trail  in  the  direction  Mani- 
kawan  had  taken. 


THE  VOICES  OF  THE  SPIRITS 


HEEDLESS  of  drizzling  rain  and  snow, 
of  driving  wind  and  gathering  dark- 
ness, Manikawan  ran  forward  on  the 
trail.  Hatred  was  in  her  heart.  Vengeance 
was  crying  to  her.  Every  subtle,  cunning  in- 
stinct of  her  savage  race  was  aroused  in  her 
bosom. 

She  was  determined  that  those  who  had  sent 
her  beloved  White  Brother  of  the  Snow  to  de- 
struction in  the  deadly  place  of  evil  spirits 
must  die.  How  she  should  compass  their  death 
she  did  not  yet  know;  this  was  a  detail  for 
circumstance  to  decide,  but  it  must  be  done. 
White  Brother  of  the  Snow  was  of  her  tribe; 
the  law  of  her  savage  nature  told  her  his  death 
must  be  avenged. 

At  the  end  of  a  mile  or  so  she  left  the  trail 
and  turned  sharply  to  the  northward,  winding 
her  way  deftly  through  moisture-laden  under- 
brush which  scarcely  seemed  to  lessen  her 

123 


THE  VOICES  OF  THE  SPIRITS      123 

pace.  Presently  she  broke  out  upon  the  shores 
of  a  lake  and  behind  some  willow  bushes  un- 
covered a  small  bireh-bark  canoe,  which  she 
had  carefully  concealed  there  on  her  journey 
to  t!ie  river  tilt. 

Turning  the  canoe  over  her  head,  with  the 
middle  thwart  resting  upon  her  shoulders,  she 
took  a  southwesterly  direction  until  the  old 
portage  trail  was  again  encountered,  and  re- 
suming the  trail  she  at  length  came  upon  the 
first  lake  of  the  chain  through  which  the  port- 
age route  passed. 

The  storm  had  ceased,  and  the  stars  were 
breaking  through  the  clouds  as  Manikawan 
launched  her  canoe.  It  was  a  long,  narrow 
lake,  and  paddling  its  length  she  had  no  diffi- 
culty in  locating  the  place  where  the  stream 
entered;  and  not  far  away  a  blazed  tree,  now 
plainly  visible  in  the  light  of  the  rising  moon, 
told  her  where  the  trail  led  out. 

Here,  as  she  stepped  ashore,  she  discov- 
ered the  first  of  the  series  of  tilts  which  Bob 
and  Shad  had  built,  and,  immediately  pushing 
aside  the  flimsy  bark  door,  entered  the  tilt 
and  struck  a  match.  Its  flare  disclosed  a  half- 
burned  candle  on  a  shelf  near  the  door,  and 


124 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


lighting  it  she  held  it  aloft  for  a  survey  of  the 
interior  of  the  tilt. 

On  the  bunk  at  the  side  were  two  or  three 
bags  evidently  containing  clothing  and  other 
supplies,  while  on  the  bunk  in  the  rear  were 
some  odds  and  ends  of  clothing,  a  folded  tent, 
a  coil  of  rope,  doubtless  used  by  the  young 
adventurers  as  a  tracking  line,  to  assist  them 
in  hauling  their  canoe  up  the  swift  stream 
which  connected  the  lake  with  the  river  below, 
and  a  rifle  in  a  sealskin  case. 

On  beholding  this  last  object,  Manikawan 
gave  a  low  exclamation  of  pleasure.  Taking 
a  chip  from  the  floor  she  bent  the  candle  over 
it,  permitting  some  of  the  hot  grease  to  flow 
upon  it,  and  setting  the  candle  firmly  in  the 
grease  placed  the  improvised  candlestick  upon 
the  tent  stove. 

Then,  reaching  for  the  rifle,  she  drew  it 
from  the  case  and  examined  it  critically.  The 
magazine  proved  to  be  fully  charged.  Return- 
ing the  rifle  to  its  case,  she  now  examined  the 
other  contents  of  the  tilt,  and  presently  came 
upon  a  quantity  of  cartridges  in  one  of  the 
bags. 

Several  of  these  she  appropriated,  and  drop- 


THE  VOICES  OF  THE  SPIRITS      1«6 

ping  them  into  a  leathern  pouch  at  her  belt, 
restored  the  remaining  contents  of  the  tilt  to 
the  position  in  w'.iich  ahe  had  found  them. 
Then  taking  the  rifle  in  its  case,  she  blew  out 
the  candle,  and  passed  out  of  the  tilt,  carefully- 
closing  the  door  behind  her. 

The  moot  was  now  sufficiently  risen  to  light 
the  trail,  and  the  blazes  which  Ungava  Bob 
had  made  were  so  clear  that  Manikawan's 
progress  was  rapid. 

Spectral  shadows  lay  all  about  her,  flit- 
ting here  and  there  across  her  trail  as  she 
sped  onward  and  onward  through  the  dark 
forests  that  intervened  between  the  lakes.  In 
the  distance  she  heard  the  voices  of  the  evil 
spirits  so  dreaded  1 .  her  people,  speaking  in 
dull,  monotonous  undertones,  like  ceaseless, 
rolling  thunder  far  away,  threatening  destruc- 
tion and  death  to  all  who  fell  within  their 
reach.  Even  to  her,  whose  home  was  the  wil- 
derness, the  situation  was  weird  and  un- 
canny. 

At  length  she  passed  another  tilt  near  the 
end  of  a  lake,  but  she  did  not  pause  to  enter 
it.  A  little  beyond  the  tilt  the  trail  crossed 
a  rise  of  ground,  and  upon  reaching  the  sum- 


126  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

mit  she  bebfld  in  tlie  distance  a  long,  wide, 
silvery  streak  glistening  in  the  moonlight.  It 
was  the  river,  and  with  a  sen^^e  of  relief  she 
lowered  the  canoe  from  her  shoulders  and  con- 
cealed it  carefully  amongst  the  underbrush. 

She  glanced  at  the  stars  and  calculated  the 
time  until  dawn.  Tl,e  region  into  which  she 
had  come  was  wholly  unfamiliar  to  her,  and 
she  must  have  daylight  to  reconnoitre  and 
locate  the  camp  of  her  enemies. 

There  '-s  still  ample  tin.e  for  rest,  for  this 
was  the  ac  -.'ron  of  lengthening  nights  and  short- 
ening days,  and  Manikawan  was  in  much  need 
of  rest  and  food.    For  nearly  thirty-six  hours 
she  had  been  exerting  herself  to  the  utmost 
of  her  strength.    At  the  river  tilt  she  had 
made  a  fire  in  the  stove  and  brewed  herself 
some  tea,  but  she  had  eaten  nothing.    Now, 
with  the  moment's  relaxation,  a  feeling  of 
great  faigue  came  upon  her,  and  for  the  first 
time  she  realised  the  length  of  her  fast  and  the 
extjct  of  her  weariness. 

Slowly  she  retraced  her  steps  to  the  tilt 
which  she  bad  passed  on  the  lake  shore  a  little 
way  back.  Entering  it  she  struck  a  match 
and  lighted  a  candle,  as  she  had  done  at  the 


THE  VOICES  OF  THE  SI'HHTS      1S7 

other  tilt,  and  with  its  assistance  fount!  the 
flour,  porit,  and  tea,  together  with  a  frying  jmn 
and  itettle  which  Ungava  Bob  imd  left  tliere  the 
day  that  he  and  Shad  Trowbridge  were  at- 
taclved  by  the  Indians. 

She  went  to  the  lul<e  for  a  itettle  of  water, 
and  returning  gathered  a   handful  of  bircli 
bark.     Using  the  bark  for  tinder  and  ai)i)ro- 
priating  w(,od  which  she  found  split  and  neatly 
pile<l  near  the  stove  for  ready  use,  she  lighted 
a  fire  in  the  stove,  and  set  the  kettle  on  to  heat 
for  tea.    This  done  she  cut  several  thick  slices 
of  fat  pork,  which  she  fried  in  the  |)an,  and 
mixing  a  <iuantity  of  flour  and  water  into 
dough,  browned  the  dough  in  the  pork  grease. 
It  was  with  a  keen  api)etito  that  she  sat 
down  to  her  long-deferred  banquet;  and  with 
vast  relief  she  drank  the  tea  and  ate  the  pork 
and  dough  cake.     Then,  wearied  to  the  last 
degree,  she  fell  back  upon  one  of  the  bunks, 
the  rifle  by  her  side;  and  with  the  distant 
rumble  of  the  falls  in  her  ears,  fell  imme- 
diately asleep. 

It  was  broad  day  when  Alanikawan  opened 
her  eyes.  She  seized  the  kettle,  and  hastening 
to  the  lake  laved  her  face  and  head  in  the  cool- 


1«8  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

tag  water.  Then,  from  a  buckskin  pouch  at  her 
bolt,  she  drew  a  neat  birch-bark  ease,  deco- 
rated with  porcupine  quills,  and  from  the  case 
a  rudely  fashioned  comb,  from  which  dangled 
by  a  buckskin  thong  a  tuft  of  porcui)ine  tail. 
The  lake  was  her  mirror,  as  she  smoothed  and 
r.-braided  her  hair.  This  done,  she  ran  the 
comb  several  times  through  the  tuft  of  porcu- 
pine tail  before  returning  it  to  its  case. 

Her  simple  toilet  completed,  Manikawan 
mounted  a  high  pinnacle  of  rock  and  for  sev- 
ere! minutes  stood  silently  contemplating  the 
rising  sun.  The  eastern  sky  was  ablaze  with 
red  and  purple  and  orange,  and  she  beheld  the 
glory  of  the  scene  with  deep  reverence. 

Upon  her  pinnacle  of  rock  she  felt  herself 
in  the  presence  of  the  Mysterious  Power  which 
governed  her  destiny  and  the  world  in  which 
she  lived,  and  after  the  manner  of  her  fathers 
she  besought  that  Mysterious  Presence  in  un- 
spoken words,  to  make  her  pure  and  noble 
and  generous ;  to  make  her  worthy  to  stand  in 
its  Presence— worthy  to  live  in  the  beautiful 
world  which  surrounded  her. 

But  Manikawan  was  not  a  Christian.  She 
knew  nothing  of  the  white  man's  God  or  of 


THE  VOICES  OF  THE  SPIRITS  189 
Christ's  lessons  of  forgiveness,  and  she  de- 
scended from  the  rock  morally  strengthened, 
perhaps,  in  her  savage  way,  but  no  less  deter- 
mined to  wreak  vengeance  upon  those  whom 
she  deemed  her  enemies. 

While  she  slept  she  had  heard  constantly 
the  voice  of  the  evil  spirits  of  the  falls,  and 
the  spirits  themselves  had  come  to  her  in  a 
dream,  and  whispering  in  her  ear  had  urged 
her  on  to  vengeance,  and  promised  her  im- 
munity from  their  wrath.  Manikawnn,  like 
all  her  people,  was  superstitious  in  the  ex- 
treme. She  believed  absolutely  in  the  super- 
natural, and  her  faith  in  dreams  was  un- 
wavering. 

The  sun  was  hour  high  when  she  set  forth 
f""''  ^  1  her  mission.  Mounting  the  semi- 
^  .1.    ■  where  she  had  hidden  her  canoe, 

she  croutiied  low  behind  the  bushes,  and  cat- 
like and  noiselessly  descended  to  the  forest 
on  the  other  side.  Here  under  cover  of  the 
trees  she  proceeded  more  rapidly  to  the  end 
of  the  portage  trail. 

Peering  out  from  her  cover,  she  first  studied 
every  foot  of  the  river  and  surrounding  coun- 
try that  lay  witliin  the  range  of  her  vision; 


180  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

then  moving  silently  forward  she  removed  the 
rifle,  which  she  still  carried,  from  its  sealskin 
case  and  laid  the  case  on  the  ground  behind 
a  boulder  and  the  weapon  upon  it,  where  it 
would  be  completely  hidden  from  view,  but 
still  available  for  instant  use. 

This  arranged  to  her  satisfaction,  she 
crossed  the  trail,  and  gliding  as  noiselessly  as 
a  shadow  through  the  trees,  ascended  the  river 
bank  to  reconnoitre  for  the  Mingen  camp.  The 
Indians  that  visited  her  father's  lodge  had 
said  that  they  were  encamped  near  the  river, 
and  not  far  above  the  portage  trail. 


ii' 


XI 


MANIKAWAN'S  VENGEANCE 

THEREFORE,  Manikawan  in  her  quest 
advanced  cautiously,  at  the  same  time 
making,  as  she  advanced,  a  thorough 
study  of  the  ground. 

She  had  travelled  perhaps  two  miles,  when 
she  discovered  a  thin  curl  of  smoke  rising  over 
the  trees  a  short  distance  in  advance,  and 
dropping  upon  her  hands  and  knees  she 
crawled  stealthily  forward  until  from  behind 
a  clump  of  willow  bushes  she  was  afforded  a 
clear  view  of  the  fire  and  its  surroundings. 

A  deerskin  wigwam  stood  in  a  clearing,  and 
near  the  smouldered  embers  of  a  fire  two  In- 
dians were  engaged  in  making  snowshoe 
frames ;  but,  so  far  as  she  could  see,  they  were 
the  only  inhabitants  of  the  camp.  It  was  evi- 
dent that  the  remainder  of  the  party  were 
absent,  probably  hunting  caribou  in  the  North. 

As    noiselessly    as    she    had    approached, 
Manikawan  now  retreated  to  a  safe  distance. 
in 


132 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


With  a  full  understanding  of  the  conditions, 
she  had  quickly  and  cunningly  formulated  her 
plans,  and  when  well  out  of  view  she  arose  to 
her  feet  and  boldly  approached  the  camp. 

The  Indians,  with  no  sign  of  alarm  or  sur- 
prise, and  not  deigning  either  recognition  or 
greeting,  continued  at  their  task,  quite  ignor- 
ing her  presence  as  she  approached.  For  a 
moment  Matiikawan  stood  before  them  in 
silence;  then  she  spoke: 

"  I  am  Manikawan,  the  daughter  of  Sishe- 
takushin,  whose  lodge  the  men  of  the  South 
have  visited.  Manikawan  has  come  to  do  hon- 
our to  the  men  of  the  South.  While  they 
talked  with  Sishetakushin,  her  father,  she 
heard  how  bravely  they  have  guarded  the 
hunting  grounds  of  her  people  and  theirs. 
They  are  brave  men  and  she  has  come  to  do 
them  honour. 

"  She  heard  how  they  drove  the  two  white 
invaders  of  our  country  into  the  arms  of  the 
evil  spirits,  whose  thunderous  voices  she  hears 
even  now.  It  was  well.  White  men  have  come 
into  our  land  and  have  made  the  spirits  angry. 
When  the  spirits  are  made  angry  they  drive 
away  the  caribou.    Then  the  people  of  the 


MANIKAWAN'S  VENGEANCE 


183 


South  and  Sishetakashin's  people  are  hungry. 
The  white  men  have  built  lodges  of  trees 
near  the  potagan  (portage)  of  our  fathers. 
They  stored  these  lodges  with  much  tea  and 
tobacco,  flour  and  pork.  Without  these  things 
the  white  man  cannot  live,  for  he  is  not  like 
our  people. 

' '  Other  white  men  are  coming  to  our  con- 
try.  If  these  stores  are  left  in  the  lodges  near 
the  potagan  of  our  fathers,  the  white  men  will 
stay.  If  they  do  not  have  these  things,  they 
will  go  away,  for  without  them  they  will  be 
hungry. 

"  The  men  of  Sishetakushin's  people  and 
the  men  of  the  South  cannot  remove  them,  for 
the  evil  spirits  dwell  there,  and  would  do  them 
harm. 

"  But  Manikawan  is  a  maiden.  The  evil 
spirits  will  not  harm  her.  She  is  too  humble 
for  their  notice.  Manikawan  has  gone  to  the 
lodges  of  the  white  men  and  has  removed  the 
things  from  the  lodges,  so  that  the  white  men 
will  not  find  them  when  they  come. 

"  The  men  of  the  South  are  brave.  They 
have  sent  two  of  the  white  men  into  the  arms 
of  the  evil  spirits.    They  must  be  rewarded. 


134 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


"  Manikawan  has  carried  much  tobacco  and 
tea  and  other  stores  to  the  place  where  the 
potagan  reaches  up  from  the  river.  These 
things  are  for  the  men  of  the  South.  Let  them 
bring  their  canoe.  Manikawan  will  show  them 
the  things  and  they  will  take  them." 

The  Indians  did  not  deign  to  reply  at  once, 
but  presently  one  of  them  said : 

"  Let  Manikawan  bring  the  things  to  the 
lodge  of  the  men  of  the  South.  She  is  a 
maiden,  and  it  is  a  maiden's  work.  It  is  not 
the  work  of  a  hunter." 

"  Manikawan  is  not  of  the  lodge  of  the  men 
of  the  South,  and  she  will  not  do  this.  She 
will  wait  at  the  place  where  the  potagan  rises 
from  the  river  until  the  sun  is  there;  "  and 
Manikawan  pointed  to  the  zenith.  "  If  the 
men  of  the  South  do  not  come,  she  will  go,  for 
she  will  believe  the  men  of  the  South  do  not 
need  tea  and  tobacco." 

"  Let  the  maiden  return  to  the  place  where 
the  potagan  rises  from  the  river.  Let  her 
wait  there.  The  men  of  the  South  will  come," 
said  the  spokesman. 

Manikawan  turned  away,  down  the  river 
bank,  by  the  route  she  had  ascended.    Her 


MANIKA WAN'S  VENGE  iNCE         135 

progress  was  dignified  and  unhurried  so  long 
as  she  might  still  be  seen  by  the  Indians,  but 
was  quitkly  changed  to  a  run  the  moment  she 
was  beyond  their  view. 

Glibly  she  had  lied  to  them  and  her  con- 
science was  not  troubled.  She  was  not  a  Chris- 
tian. 'I  he  savage  teaching  upheld  subterfuge 
in  dealing  with  the  enemy,  and  she  deemed 
these  Indians  her  enemies,  for  had  they  not 
destroyed  White  Brother  of  the  Snow?  And 
was  he  not  of  her  people  by  adoption! 

Immediately  Manikawan  arrived  at  the 
portage  trail  she  looked  sharply  about  to 
make  certam  she  was  not  observed.  Then  she 
examined  the  rifle  behind  the  bowlder,  and, 
quite  satisfied  with  her  inspection,  returned 
it  to  its  resting  place  and  waited. 

She  knew  that  the  two  Indians,  with  due  at- 
tention to  their  dignity,  would  make  no  haste 
in  their  coming,  and  would  doubtless  keep  her 
waiting  until  the  noonday  hour  which  she  had 
designated,  but  nevertheless  her  lookout  up 
the  river  was  never  for  a  moment  relinquished. 
She  watched  as  a  cat  watches  a  hole — from 
which  it  expects  the  mouse  to  emerge — ready 
to  pounce  upon  the  unwary  prey. 


lae 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


At  last  she  was  rewarded.  A  birch-bark 
canoe  containing  the  two  Indians  came  lei- 
surely gliding  down  the  river  some  hundred 
yards  from  shore.  Manikawan,  like  a  beauti- 
ful statue,  stood  tall  and  straight  at  the  end 
of  the  portage  trail.  Two  paces  from  her  the 
rifle  lay  behind  the  bowlder. 

The  Indians,  unsuspecting,  turned  the  prow 
of  the  canoe  toward  the  shore  where  she  stood. 
Still  she  did  not  move.  The  cat  waits  for  its 
victim  until  the  victim  beyond  peradventure  is 
within  reach  of  its  spring.  Nearer  and  nearer 
drew  the  canoe.  Still  Manikawan  stood,  a 
graven  image.  She  was  looking  out  and  be- 
yond her  intended  victims.  The  roar  of  the 
distant  rapids,  and  the  monotonous,  thunder- 
ous undertone  of  the  falls  were  in  her  ears, 
and  they  came  to  her  as  beautiful  music. 
The  canoe  was  now  but  a  hundred  feet  from 
shore. 

Suddenly  Manikawan  sprang,  and  the  aston- 
ished Indians  beheld  the  statue  with  a  menac- 
ing rifle  at  its  shoulder.  Then  came  a  flash 
and  a  report.  The  Indians  ducked,  and  the 
blade  of  the  steersman's  paddle,  poised  in 
mid-air,  was  shattered  by  a  bullet. 


MANIKAWAN'S  VENGEANCE        137 

Manikawan  spoke,  her  voice  ringing  out  In 
clear,  even  tones: 

"  The  men  of  the  South  sent  White  Brother 
of  the  Snow  and  his  friend  into  the  arms  of 
the  evil  spirits.  White  Brother  of  the  Snow 
was  of  Manikawan's  people.  The  men  of 
the  South  are  the  enemies  of  Manikawan's 
people.  They  are  cowards  and  they  must 
die." 

The  Indian  at  the  bow  paddled  desperately 
away  from  shore  and  the  menacing  rifle.  The 
Indian  at  the  stem  made  equally  desperate 
but  ineffectual  attempts  with  his  broken 
paddle. 

Another  shot  rang  out,  and  the  bowman 
ducked,  and  ceased  paddling  as  a  bullet  sang 
past  his  head.  Immediately  the  canoe  began 
drifting,  and  a  moment  later  the  strengthening 
current  caught  it. 

Then  the  Indians,  alive  to  this  new  danger, 
disregarding  bullets,  rose  to  their  feet  and 
paddled  desperately,  the  one  in  the  stern  seem- 
ing not  to  know  that  the  broken  stick  he  held 
was  useless.  They  knew  that  the  evil  spirits 
had  reached  up  for  their  canoe  and  were  draw- 
ing them  down — down — to  something  worse 


188  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

than  death.    Their  faces  became  drawn  and 
terror-stricken. 

Faintly,  and  as  a  voice  far  away  and  unreal, 
they  heard  Manikawan's  taunts  as  she  ran 
down  the  high  banks  of  the  river,  keeping  pace 
with  tl  .  doomed  canoe  and  its  occupants  go- 
ing headlong  to  destruction: 

"  The  men  of  the  South  are  cowards.  They 
are  afraid  to  die.  The  evil  spirits  are  hungry, 
and  soon  they  will  be  fed.  Their  voices  are 
Joud  They  are  crying  with  hunger.  The  men 
of  the  South  will  feed  them." 


zn 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  THE  RAPTOS 

THE  two  adventurers  marooned  on  the 
island  ate  their  first  meal  of  rabbit, 
grilled  over  the  coals,  with  keen  relish, 
though  they  had  neither  salt  to  season  it  nor 
bread  to  accompany  it. 

"  It  might  be  worse,"  remarked  Shad,  when 
the  meal  was  finished.  "  Babbit  is  good, 
and,"  he  continued,  lolling  back  lazily  and  con- 
tentedly before  the  fire,  "  there's  always  some 
bright  spot  to  light  the  darkest  cloud— we've 
no  dishes  to  wash.  A  rinse  of  the  tea  pail, 
a  rinse  of  our  cups,  and,  presto!  the  thing's 
done.    I  detest  dish-washing." 

"  Aye,"  admitted  Bob,  "  dish-washin'  is  a 
putterin'  job." 

"  Yes,  that's  it;  a  puttering  job,"  resumed 
Shad.  "  But  now  let's  come  to  the  important 
question  of  the  day.  Continued  banqueting 
upon  rabbit,  I've  been  told,  becomes  mo- 
notonous, and  under  any  conditions  imprison- 


I 


m% 


140  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

ment  is  sure  to  become  monotonous  sooner  or 

later.    I  have  a  hunch  it  will  be  sooner  in  our 

case.     I'm  beginning  to  chafe  under  bonds 

already.   What  are  we  going  to  do  about  itT  " 

"  I'm  noc  knowin'  so  soon,"  confessed  Bob, 

"  but  I'm  thinkin'  before  this  day  week  Dick 

an'  Ed  an'  Bill  will  be  huntin'  around  for  us, 

an'  they '8  like  t'  i5nd  us,  an'  when  they  does 

they  'II  be  findin '  a  way  t '  help  us.   They  might 

build  up  th'  place  down  there  with  stones,  so's 

t'  make  a  footin'  f  land  on,  an'  then  'twill 

be  easy  goin'  ashore." 

"  But  sappose  they  don't  come  around  this 
way  and  don't  find  usi  " 

"  Then  I'm  thinkin'  we'll  be  bidin'  here 
till  ice  forms." 
"  Till  ice  forms  I  And  when  will  th  »1  bet  " 
"An'  she  comes  on  frosty,  ice '11  begin 
formin'  th'  middle  of  October  on  th'  banks. 
But  th'  current's  wonderful  strong,  an'  I'll 
not  b(i  expectin'  ice  t'  cross  on  till  New  Year, 
whatever." 

"  Ja)  ary  first!  October!  November!  De- 
cember! Three  months  on  this  god-forsaken 
bit  of  rock!  Great  Jehoshaphat,  man  I  That'll 
be  an  eternity !    We  can't  endure  it !  " 


li:  ,! 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  THE  RAPIDS     141 

"I'm  not  thinkin'  we'll  have  to.  I'm 
tbinkin'  they'll  find  us  in  a  fortni't,  what- 
ever," reassured  Bob,  rising  and  picking  up 
the  axe.  "  We'll  be  needin'  a  shelter,  an' 
I'm  thinkin'  I'll  build  un  now." 

"  And  we  have  no  blankets  with  usi  "  ex- 
claimed Shad.  "  Oh,  we're  going  to  have  a 
swell  time!  " 

"  We'll  be  fair  snug  with  a  shelter,  now. 
I'll  be  cuttin'  th'  sticks,  an'  you  breaks 
boughs." 

"All  right,  Bob,  I'll  get  the  boughs," 
agreed  Shad,  languidly  rising,  and  as  he  went 
to  his  task  singing: 


"  ■  Old  Noth,  he  did  build  an  trie. 
He  made  it  out  of  hick'ry  baric 

*' '  If  you  belong  to  Gideon's  band. 

Why  here'a  my  heart,  and  here's  my  hand, 
Looking  for  a  borne. 

" '  He  drove  the  animiles  in  two  by  two. 
The  elephant  and  the  kangaroo. 

"'And  then  he  nailed  the  hatches  down, 
And  told  outsiders  they  might  drown. 

"  *  And  when  he  found  ht  had  no  sail, 
He  just  ran  up  his  own  coat  tail. 

" '  If  you  belong  to  Gideon's  band, 

Why  here's  my  heart,  and  here's  my  hand, 
Looking  for  a  home.' " 


14S 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


fl 


A  full  Btomach  sometimes  wholly  changes 
one's  outlook  upon  the  world.  Shad  was  be- 
ginning now  to  view  his  adventure  from  a 
whimsical  standpoint,  a  result  induced  par- 
tially by  his  dinner,  largely  by  Bob's  philo- 
sophical attitude. 

It  was  not  anticipated  the  shelter  would  be 
required  for  long,  and  a  comfortable  lean-to 
under  the  lee  of  the  hill,  with  back  and  ends 
enclosed,  and  closely  thatched  with  boughs  and 
moss,  was  considered  sufficient.  A  thick, 
springy  bed  of  spruce  boughs  was  then  ar- 
ranged, and  the  temporary  home  was  com- 
pleted. 

Then  Bob  proceeded  to  set  deadfalls,  utilis- 
ing flat  stones  and  raising  them  on  a  figure 
4,  which  he  baited  with  tender  birch  boughs. 
Several  rabbits  were  started  in  the  course  of 
the  afternoon,  giving  assurance  that  the  dead- 
falls would  yield  sufficient  food  for  their  needs, 
though  no  results  could  be  expected  from  them 
until  the  following  morning. 

"  Now  for  supper.  Shad,  we'll  have  t'  be 
usin'  some  shells,"  he  announced.  "  Sup- 
posin'  you  tries  un.  I  were  goin'  t'  make  a 
bow  an'  arrows  t'  save  th'  shells,  but  they's 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  THE  RAPIDS     143 

nothin'  t'  feather  th'  arrows  with,  an'  no 
string  tbat'd  be  strong  enough  for  th'  bow." 

"  All  right,"  Ci^oed  Shad.  "I'll  get 
them;  "  and  within  huif  an  hour  he  returned 
with  a  bag  of  two  fat  young  rabbits. 

Their  fire  was  built  before  the  ican-to,  and 
a  very  small  blaze  was  found  sufficient  to  heat 
it  to  a  cosy  warmth.  Here  they  sat  and  ate 
their  grilled  rabbit  and  drank  their  tea,  quite 
as  comfortably  as  they  would  have  done  in 
their  tent  or  tilt,  though  during  the  night  one 
or  the  other  found  it  necessary  to  rise  several 
times  to  renew  the  Are. 

Bivouacking  in  this  manner  was  more  or  less 
of  an  ordinary  circumstance  in  Ungava  Bob's 
life.  He  looked  upon  it  as  the  sort  of  thing 
to  be  expected,  and  as  a  matter  of  course.  He 
felt  indeed  that  they  were  very  fortunately 
situated,  and  for  the  present  he  had  small 
doubt  that  their  imprisonment  would  prove 
but  a  temporary  inconvenience. 

The  deadfalls  yielded  them  the  first  night 
three  rabbits;  another  was  shot.  They  bad 
quite  enough  to  eat  the  next  day,  and  Shad 
took  a  brighter  view  of  the  matter. 

"  By  Jove!  "  he  laughed,  after  breakfast. 


144 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


"  I  wonder  what  the  fellows  at  home  would 
say  if  they  should  see  me  now,  playing  the 
part  of  Robinson  Crusoe?  "  and  then  he  be- 
gan to  sing: 

" '  Fare  thee  well,  for  I  must  leave  thee. 

Do  not  let  the  parting  grieve  thee, 
And  remember  that  the  best  of  friends  muit  part, 

must  part. 
Adieu,  adieu,  kind  friends,  adieu,  adieu,  adieu, 
I  can  no  longer  stay  with  you,  stay  with  you, 
I'll  hang  my  harp  on  a  weeping-willow  tree, 
And  may  the  world  go  well  with  thee.' " 

But  when  another  morning  came,  with  no 
sugar  remaining  for  the  tea,  and  no  other  food 
than  the  now  monotonous  unsalted  rabbit, 
Shad  rebelled. 

"  See  here.  Bob!  "  he  exclaimed  irritably, 
"  I  can't  eat  any  more  rabbit  I  It  nauseates 
me  to  even  think  of  it !  We've  got  to  do  some- 
thing." 

"  We  can't  help  un,  now,  Shad,"  answered 
Bob  soothingly.    "  Babbit  ain't  so  bad." 

"  Not  once  or  twice,  or  even  three  times  in 
succession— but  eternally  and  forever,  I  can't 
go  it." 

"  It  does  get  a  bit  wearisome,  but  'tis  a  won- 
derful lot  better 'n  no  rabbit,  when  rabbit's 
all  there  is." 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  THE  RAPIDS     148 

"  Wearisome!  'Wearisome!  Confound  it, 
Bob,  it's  disgusting!  Now  we've  got  to  do 
sometliing  to  get  ourselves  out  of  here,  and 
that  quick." 

"  I'm  not  knowin',  now,  what  t'  do  till  th' 
others  comes,  an'  I'm  knowin'  they  will." 

"  Come,  Bob,  let's  make  a  try  for  that  wall 
down  there.  Even  if  the  canoe  does  get  away 
from  us,  we  can  make  the  wall — I  know  we 
can." 

"  No,"  and  Bob  shook  his  head  ominously, 
"I'm  ready  t'  take  any  fair  chanct,  Shad,  but 
they  wouldn't  be  even  a  fair  chanct  t'  make 
un." 

"  Oh,  bosh!  "  exclaimed  Shad  angrily.  "  I 
thought  you  had  some  nerve." 

"  'Tisn't  a  matter  o'  nerve.  Shad;  'tis 
a  matter  o'  what  can  be  done  an'  what 
can't." 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  can!  Any  one  with  two  legs 
and  two  hands  and  two  eyes  and  just  a  grain 
of  grit  can  do  it." 

Bob,  quiet  and  unruffled,  grilled  his  rabbit, 
refusing  to  take  offence  or  to  be  moved  at 
Shad's  remarks,  evidently  intended  to  goad 
him  into  what  his  experience  told  him  would 


146  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

certainly  prove  a  hopeless  and  foolhardy 
venture. 

It  is  a  psychological  phenomenon  that  men, 
denied  action  and  confined  to  limited  and  soli- 
tary surroundings,  become  highly  irascible. 
They  find  cause  for  offence  in  every  word  and 
every  action  of  their  companions,  and  it  is  not 
unusual  for  men  situated  as  Ungava  Bob  and 
Shad  Trowbridge  were  to  lapse  into  such  a 
state  of  antagonism  toward  one  another  that 
they  cease  to  converse. 

This  was  the  condition  into  which  Shad 
Trowbridge  quickly  lapsed.  He  soon  came  to 
ascribe  to  timidity  and  cowardice  Bob's  oppo- 
sition to  his  wish  to  attempt  a  crossing  to 
the  mainland.  He  was  one  who  chafed  under 
restraint,  and  one  who,  when  he  had  once  de- 
cided upon  a  course  of  action,  could  not  brook 
opposition  from  another ;  and  though  at  heart 
he  knew  that  Bob  was  fearless  and  brave,  and 
that  his  arguments  were  sound,  yet  he  would 
not  now  admit  this,  even  to  himself. 

Normally  Shad  was  a  good  fellow,  and  he 
would  endure  hardships  cheerfully  if  the  hard- 
ships were  accompanied  by  physical  activity; 
but  the  condition  of  monotonous  existence,  ac- 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  THE  RAPIDS     147 

eompanied  by  idleness  and  inactivity,  whicli 
they  were  now  experiencing,  was  too  great 
for  him  to  withstand,  and  he  was  prepared  to 
take  the  most  desperate  chance  to  escape  from 
it.  When  at  length  the  tea  and  his  tobacco 
were  gone,  and  nothing  but  the  daily  ration  of 
unseasoned  rabbit  remained,  the  thought  of 
thus  continuing  indefinitely  became  unendur- 
able to  him. 

Ungava  Bob,  on  the  contrary,  had  been  ac- 
customed to  wilderness  solitude  all  his  life. 
This,  and  a  naturally  even  disposition,  cou- 
pled with  a  philosophical  temperament,  ren- 
dered him  capable  of  overlooking  Shad's  slurs, 
and  when  finally  Shad  ceased  to  speak  to  him, 
or  when  spoken  to  by  Bob  ceased  to  acknowl- 
edge that  he  heard.  Bob  permitted  the  slight 
to  pass  unnoticed. 

At  length,  one  day,  when  Shad  had  nursed 
his  supposed  grievance  to  a  point  where  he 
could  no  longer  endure  it,  he  blurted  out 
brutally : 

"  See  here,  I've  stood  this  devilish  cowardice 
of  yours  as  long  as  I'm  going  to.  Do  yon  see 
where  the  sun  isf  It's  noon.  Now  I'll  give 
you  until  that  sun  drops  half-way  to  the  hori- 


148 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


zon  to  decide  whether  or  not  you're  going 
across  with  me.  If  you  say  '  No,'  I'm  going 
without  you,  that's  all,  and  you  can  stay  here 
and  eat  rabbit,  and  rot,  if  you  choose." 

"  Now,  Shad,"  Bob  placated,  "  I  knows  how 
you  feels,  an'  it's  your  judgment  ag'in  mine. 
But  I 'mhavin' experience  with  places  like  that, 
an'  I  knows  we  can't  make  th'  crussin'  an' 
land.    Now  don't  try  un.  Shad." 

"  Don't  '  Shad  '  me My  God,  Bob! 

Look  there!  "  he  suddenly  broke  off. 

Shooting  past  them,  half  standing  in  their 
birch  canoe,  paddling  with  the  desperation  of 
men  facing  doom,  one  with  his  sound  paddle, 
the  other  with  his  broken  one,  were  the  Indi- 
ans that  Manikawan  had  sent  adrift. 

They  were  very  near  the  island — so  near 
that  every  outline  of  their  drawn,  terror- 
stricken  faces  was  visible — but  too  far  away 
to  reach  the  gravelly  point  upon  which  Bob 
and  Shad  had  found  refuge.  Indeed,  they 
seemed  not  to  see  it,  or  to  see  anything 
but  the  horrible  spectral  phantom  of  the 
evil  spirit  that  they  believed  had  them  in  its 
control. 

On — on — on — they  sped,  ever  fasten — faster 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  THE  RAPIDS    149 

toward  the  pounding  rapids  —  impotently, 
though  still  desperately,  wielding  their  pad- 
dles. Bob  and  Shad  stood  spellbound  and  hor- 
ror-stricken. The  Indians  were  nearing  the 
first  white  foam  I  In  a  moment  their  canoe 
would  strike  it  I  It  was  in  the  foam !  It  rose 
for  an  instant  upon  a  white  crest,  the  Indi- 
ans' paddles  still  working — then  was  swal- 
lowed up  in  the  swirling  tumult  of  waves  and 
whirlpools,  never  to  reappear. 

Ungava  Bob  and  Shad  Trowbridge  stood  for 
a  moment  in  awe-stricken  horror.  Then  they 
sat  down  upon  the  rock  on  which  Shad  had 
sunk  when  overcome  with  shock  on  the  day 
of  their  escape  upon  the  island. 

"  Bob,"  said  Shad,  at  last,  "  that  was  the 
most  terrible  thing  I  ever  beheld  1  " 

"  'Twere  awful!  "  assented  Bob. 

"  It  shows  us.  Bob,  what  you  and  I  escaped. 
Bob,  I've  been  very  disagreeable  lately.  Take 
my  hand  and  forgive  me,  won't  yout  " 

"  'Twere  th'  rabbit  meat,  Shad,"  said  Bob, 
taking  Shad's  hand.  "  Rabbit  meat  be  won- 
derful tryin'  t'  eat  steady.  I  were  knowin', 
now,  you'd  be  all  right  again.  Shad." 

"  I  think  I've  been  demented.  Bob— I'm 


150 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


1^;: 


sure  I  have — anyway,  believe  it,  and  don't 
hold  it  against  me." 

"I'll  not  be  holdin'  nn  ag'in  you,  Shad. 
'Twere  natural,  and "  Bob  ceased  speak- 
ing and  sat  staring  at  the  high  bank  of  the 
mainland.  "  ManikawanI  "  he  exclaimed, 
springing  up  and  crossing  the  island  point  at 
a  bound. 

There  she  stood,  joy,  wonder,  incredulity, 
written  upon  her  face.  She  had  believed 
White  Brother  of  the  Snow  dead,  but  here  she 
saw  him  in  flesh  and  alive,  and  he  had  spoken 
her  name. 

"  White  Brother  of  the  Snowl  Oh,  White 
Brother  of  the  Snowl  The  evil  spirits  did  not 
devour  you,  but  like  hungry  wolves  they  have 
devoured  your  enemies." 

Very  quickly  Bob  explained  their  predica- 
ment, and  she  listened  silently.  Then  she  went 
to  the  sloping  rock,  descended  its  dangerous 
angle  to  the  water's  edgp  and  returned. 

"  White  Brother  of  the  Snow  and  his  friend 
would  find  no  lodgment  there,"  said  she.  "  It 
is  a  place  of  deceit.  But  White  Brother  of  the 
Snow  knows  how  to  be  patient.  Let  him  and 
his  friend  wait.    The  evil  spirits  cannot  reach 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  THE  RAPIDS     161 

up  for  them  where  they  are.    Whin  the  sun 
returns  again  to  tlie  high  point  in  the  heavens 
Maniltawan  will  stand  here.    Wait." 
The  next  instant  she  was  gone. 
"  What  did  she  say?  "  asked  Shad. 
"  She  were  sayin',"  explained  Bob,  "  that 
if  we  has  patience  an'  waits  she'll  be  back  by 
noon  to-morrow,  or  thereabouts.   An'  she  says 
if  we  waits  here  we'll  be  safe,  but  we  couldn't 
be  makin'  a  footin'  on  th'  rock.    She's  thinkin' 
0'  some  way  o'  gettin'  us  off,  but  I'm  not 
knowin'  what  'tis,  now." 


I* 


3- 


xra 

ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  INDIANS 

NONE  of  the  three  trappers  had  ever 
penetrated  the  region  lying  between  the 
Big  Hill  trail  and  the  river.  They 
knew  that  here,  somewhere,  Ungava  Bob  was 
to  lay  his  new  trails,  bat  as  to  the  route  the 
trails  were  to  take  they  had  no  information, 
for  this  was  a  circumstance  that  the  local 
evidences  of  the  existence  of  fur-bearing  ani- 
mals was  to  have  decided  for  Bob  when  he 
entered  the  country  to  make  hia  initial  survey 
of  conditions. 

Among  the  Indians  who  traded  at  the  Es- 
kimo Bay  post  there  was  but  one,  an  old  man, 
who  had  any  personal  knowledge  of  the  region. 
When  a  small  boy  this  Indian  had  once  trav- 
ersed with  his  father  the  now  long  disused 
portage  trail ;  and  one  day  when  Ungava  Bob 
and  Dick  Blake  met  him  at  the  post,  he  had, 
at  their  earnest  solicitation,  described  to  them 
the  country  as  he  had  seen  it  with  the  distorted 

163 


III 


ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  INDIANS    188 

vision  of  extreme  youth,  and  as  hh  memory, 
alloyed  with  the  superstitious  tales  of  nearly 
threescore  years,  recalled  it. 

It  was,  he  said,  a  region  of  many  lakes,  over 
which  flitted  the  phantom  canoes  of  those  who 
had  perished  in  the  nearby  dwelling  place  of 
evil  spirits.    In  the  canoes  were  the  ghostly 
forms  of  the  victims,  for  ever  paddling  their 
phantom  crafts  around  the  lakes,  vainly  striv- 
ing  to  escape  the  torment  of  mo.king,  ghoulish 
spirits  which  pursued  them.    Surrounding  the 
lakes  were  wild  marshes  and  deep  black  for- 
ests, which  were  peopled  by  innumerable  evil 
spirits  for  ever  searching  for  new  victims  to 
destroy.     Their  thunder  voices  were  always 
to  be  heard,  low  and  deep,  in  a  terrible  frenzy 
of  unceasing  anger,  ever  hungry  for  men  to 
devour. 

In  analysing  this  description  Dick  Blake 
eliminated  the  phantom  canoes  as  the  wild 
creation  of  imagination,  and  the  thunder 
voices  of  evil  spirits  he  set  down  as  noth- 
ing more  nor  less  than  the  roar  of  the 
great  falls  of  whose  existence  the  Indians  had 
told. 

With  this  elimination  he  accepted  as  fact 


1S4 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


the  gtatemeDt  that  the  region  was  sprinkled 
with  many  lakes,  and  that  without  the  assist- 
ance of  a  canoe  these  lakes  and  perhaps  some 
wide  marslit's  would  have  to  be  circumvented 
by  him  and  his  companions  before  they  cnme 
upon  the  river  above  the  falls,  where  it  was 
expected  the  Mingen  Indians  would  be  encoun- 
tered. 

While  Dick  Blake  was  the  first  to  declare 
that  the  Indians  must  be  punished  for  causing 
the  supposed  death  of  Bob  and  Shad,  be  was 
no  more  thoroughly  in  earnest  than  were  his 
companions. 

Normally  these  trappers  were  quiet,  peace- 
loving  men,  who  would  have  shuddered  at  the 
thought  of  causing  human  bloodshed;  but  now, 
moved  doubtless  to  a  large  extent  by  a  natural 
desire  to  avenge  an  outrage  committed  upon 
their  friends,  they  also  felt  it  their  plain  duty 
to  mete  out  punishment  to  the  guilty  ones,  in 
order  to  insure  themselves  and  other  white 
trappers  against  further  molestation.  Unless 
this  were  done  there  was  no  guarantee  against 
continued  raids  upon  their  tilts,  and  there 
would  always  be  the  danger,  and  even  proba- 
bility, that  sooner  or  later  they  would  them- 


ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  INDIANS    ISS 

selves  be  attackod  and  shot  from  ambu.l.  by 
the  emboldened  savages. 

The  trail  th.*  Bob  had  made,  leading  up 
from  the  river  tilt  and  along  l'„.  .r.ok  wl.i.I, 
flowed  from  the  first  lake,  wn.  ,,!uinlv  m„.|..  ,1- 
and  they  proceeded  with  (n..  umt^,  swhi^i  ' 
stride  characteristic  of  tlu  uoodsmao,  nn.i.li 
and  without  a  halt,  to  th.  ;,.,„.»  v.h-  re  tu^  ti  .  i 
entered  the  lake.  Here  ■.  w.dc  .i-cnt  urouml 
the  lake  shore  was  necessary,  „„<i  H  was 
nearly  noon  when  they  fell  aj^un  i,Uo  the 
trail  at  the  farther  end  and  came  upon  the 
first  tilt. 

"  We  may's  well  stop  an'  boil  th'  kettle," 
sa.d  Dick,  throwing  down  the  light  pack  of 
provisions  he  carried  and  mopping  the  perspi- 
ration from  his  forehead,  for  the  mid-day  sun 
was  warm.  <•  If  we  were  only  havin'  a  canoe 
now,  we'd  be  a  rare  piece  farther.  'Twere  a' 
long  cruise  around  the  lake." 

"  Aye,"  agreed  Ed,  "  a  canoe 'd  ha'  saved 
us  a  good  two  hours.  We  may's  well  put  th' 
fire  on  outside;  'twill  be  warm  in  th'  tilt  " 

"  Now  I'm  wonderin'  what  th'  Injun  lass  is 
np  to,"  said  Dick,  as  they  sat  down  to  their 
simple  meal  of  fried  pork  and  camp  bread 


166 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


"  She's  got  a  canoe.  There's  her  footin'  by 
th'  lake,  where  she  makes  her  landin'." 

"  They's  no  tellin'  what  an  Injun's  goin* 
t'  do,  but  I'm  not  thinkin'  'twill  be  much  harm 
t'  th'  Mingens  with  just  a  bow  an'  arrer,  an' 
that's  all  she  has  in  th'  way  o'  weapons,  so 
far's  I  makes  out,"  declared  Ed,  adding: 
"  She  were  a  wonderful  fine-lookin'  lass;  now, 
weren't  she!  " 

"  That  she  were,"  agreed  Dick,  "  wonderful 
handsome — an'  wonderful  wild-lookin',  too." 

"  Th'  poor  lad!  "  said  Ed,  after  a  pause. 
"  He  were  buildin'  th'  tilt  yonder,  thinkin' 
o'  th'  good  furrin'  he  were  f  Lave  th'  winter, 
an'  now  he's  gone.  I'm  not  knowin',  Dick, 
how  t'  tell  his  mother.  You'll  have  t'  tell  she, 
Dick;  I  couldn't  stand  t'  tell  she." 

"  No,"  objected  Dick,  "  you  were  goin'  an' 
tellin'  she  th'  time  we  thinks  th'  wolves  gets 
Bob,  an'  you  knows  how.  You'm  a  wonderful 
sight  better  breakin'  bad  news  than  me,  Ed. 
I'd  just  be  bawlin'  with  she,  an'  she  cries;  an' 
she  sure  will,  for  'twill  break  her  heart  this 
time,  an'  Bob  sure  gone." 

"  Maybe  none  of  us '11  be  bavin'  th'  chanct," 
broke  in  Bill.    "  They  may  be  a  big  passel  o' 


ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  INDIANS    1S7 

Mingens,  and  whilst  we  catches  some  of  un, 
th'  others  won't  be  sittin'  quiet." 

"  Ed  an'  me's  keepin'  a  watch  for  signs," 
assured  Dick,  as  they  arose  to  continue  their 
journey.  "  They  ain't  been  no  signs  so  far 
exceptin'  signs  o'  th'  poor  lads  an'  th'  Injun 
lass,  an'  she  were  passin'  in  th'  night,  by  th' 
oldness  o'  her  footin'." 

"  They  ain't  no  danger  o'  flndin'  Injuns 
here,  Bill,"  added  Ed.  "  This  is  what  they 
calls  th'  ha'nted  country,  an'  they'd  be  too 
scairt  o'  ghosts  an'  th'  devils  they  thinks 
IS  runnin'  round  loose  here  t'  risk  their- 
selves." 

The  long  detours  made  necessary  without 
the  assistance  of  a  canoe  so  far  delayed  their 
progress  that,  though  they  had  not  slackened 
the  rapid  pace  set  in  the  morning,  night  found 
them  upon  the  shores  of  one  of  the  intermedi- 
ate lakes,  with  little  more  than  half  the  dis- 
tance to  the  end  of  the  portp-e  trail  behind 
them. 

Here  they  erected  a  lean-to  at  the  edge  of 
the  forest,  as  a  reflector  for  their  camp-fire, 
and  as  a  protection  against  a  light  but  chilling 
breeze  that  had  sprung  up  with  the  setting 


In  I 
t 
1 


I:  t' 


158    THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

sun;  and,  all  made  snug  for  the  night,  they 

cooked  and  ate  their  supper. 

Then  they  lighted  their  pipes  and  lounged 
back  upon  the  bed  of  spruce  boughs  under  the 
lean-to,  speculating  upon  the  morrow,  and  the 
probability  of  an  encounter  with  the  Indians. 
"  What's  that,  now?  "  exclaimed  Ed  sud- 
denly, and  cautiously  rising  and  taking  a  po- 
sition beyond  the  glow  of  the  fire,  he  stood  for 
several  minutes  ?azing  intently  out  upon  the 
waters  of  the  wide  lake  not  yet  lighted  by  the 
belated  moon. 

"  There  'tis  again!  Did  you  make  un  out, 
Dickt  "  he  asked,  as  DJck  and  Bill,  following 
Ed's  example  of  cautious  exit  from  the  range 
of  the  fire's  glow,  joined  him. 

"No,  I  weren't  makin'  nothin'  out,"  an- 
swered Dick. 

"  There  were  somethin'  there  on  th'  water," 
Ed  stated  positively,  when  they  presently 
returned  to  the  lean-to. 

"  What  were  it,  now?  What  were  it  like  I  " 
asked  Dick. 

"  I  seen  un  twict,  an'  'twere  lookin'  t'  me 
like  a  canoe,  though  I'm  not  say  in'  so  for 
sure,"  explained  Ed. 


ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  INDIANS    159 

"  I  seen  nn,"  corroborated  Bill,  "  but 
whether  'twere  a  canoe  or  no,  I'm  noways 
sure— 'twere  so  far  out." 

"  If  'twere  a  canoe,  'twere  Injuns,"  de- 
clared Ed,  "  an'  if  'twere  Injuns  they  was 
seem'  our  fire,  an'  they'll  be  up  t'  some  devil- 
ment, now,  before  day." 

"Be  you  sartin',  now,  you  seen  some- 
thing? "  asked  Dick,  a  note  of  scepticism  in 
Ms  voice. 

"  Sure  an'  sartin',"  insisted  Ed.  "  'Twere 
movin',  an'  I'm  thinkin'  'twere  a  canoe,  though 
I'm  noways  sure." 

"  'Twere  just  a  loon  or  maybe  a  bunch  o' 
geese,"  said  Dick,  still  unwilling  to  believe. 

"  Twere  movin',  an'  'twere  lookin'  like 
a  canoe  t'  me,"  said  Bill.  "  'Twere  cer- 
tain no  loon  nor  geese  either.  'Twere  too 
big." 

"  An'  we  better  be  gettin'  out  o'  here,  too  " 
advised  Ed.  "  If  'twere  Injuns-an'  I'm  no- 
ways sure  'twere  or  'tweren 't-they  seen  th' 
fire,  an-  th'  dirty  devils'U  be  droppin'  us  off 
an'  we  stays  here." 

"  Aye,"  agreed  Dick,  "  we'll  be  movin'  on. 
You  an'  Bill  both  seein'  somethin',  they  must 


IS,  ' :' 


160         THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

ha'  been  somethin'  there,  though  I  weren't 
seein'  un." 

Weary  as  they  were,  the  three  men  hastily 
shouldered  their  light  packs,  and  with  rifles 
resting  in  the  hollow  of  their  arms,  Ed  in  the 
lead,  they  stole  noiselessly  away  into  the 
forest. 

Two  hours  of  rapid  travelling,  in  the  light 
of  the  no'v  rising  moon,  brought  them  to  the 
end  of  the  lake.  Here  they  paused  to  fall 
upon  their  knees  and  make  a  critical  examina- 
tion of  the  shore. 

"  Here's  fresh  footin',"  Ed  finally  an- 
nounced. "  A  canoe  were  launched  here  since 
sundown.  Th'  gravel's  wet  where  th'  water 
splashed  up.  They's  one  track  o'  a  Injun 
moccasin,  an'  from  th'  smallness  of  un  'twere 
a  woman." 

"  'Twere  sure  a  woman,"  both  Bill  and 
Dick  agreed. 

"An'  there's  th'  tame  footin'  goin'  t'other 
way,  but  'tis  an  older  track,"  Ed  continued. 
"  'Twere  th'  Injun  lass  we  sees  to-night  goin' 
back." 

"  Now  I'm  wonderin',"  said  Dick,  as 
they   arose,    "  what    she's    goin'   back   for. 


ON  THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  INDUNS    161 

Maybe  now,  she's  lookin-  f  meet  us  t'  help 

''Maybe  .'  Ed  suggested,  laughing,  '•  she's 
finding  a  hull  passel  o'  Injuns  more'n  she 
wants  t'  tackle  wi'  just  her  bow  an'  arrer  I 
were  thinkin',  now,  a  bow  an'  arrer  weren't 
much  t'  run  up  ag'in  a  band  o'  Injuns  with 
seein' they  has  guns."  J™s  wita, 

BiliT'f  7,  '*!«  «^«'«  "P  to.''  suggested 
Bill,  'hsn't  lookm'  for  us.  She  couldn't  ha' 
missed  seein'  our  fire  back  here  on  th'  shore, 
an  she'd  ha'  known  who  'twere  an'  come  over 
it  she's  wantin'  t'  see  us." 

"  You're  right,"  agreed  Dick.  "  She  must 
have  seen  our  fire,  and  if  she'd  wanted  t'  see 
us  she'd  ha'  come  over.  Now  I'm  wonderin' 
why  she  didn't." 

At  mid-forenoon  the  following  day  the  tilt 
on  the  last  lake,  where  Manikawan  had 
Bnatched  a  few  hours'  sleep,  was  reached,  and 
mounting  the  ridge  above,  the  river  was  dis- 
covered beyond. 

At  the  end  of  the  portage  trail  the  three 

rappers    held   a   hurried   consultation.     At 

eng^h,  carefully  concealing  their  packs  among 

the  bushes,  and  with  rifles  held  in  position  for 


162         THE  GAUNT  GKAY  WOLF 

instant  use,  they  turned  noiselessly  up  along 
the  river  bank,  following  the  water  closely, 
and  taking  almost  exactly  the  course  followed 
the  previous  morning  by  Manikawan. 

They  were  aware  that  they  were  now  beyond 
the  bounds  of  the  region  avoided  by  the  In- 
dians, and  they  also  had  no  doubt  that  the 
Indian  camp  was  situated  farther  up  the  river, 
probably  at  some  convenient  landing-place  for 
canoes. 

Finally  Ed  Matheson,  who  had  the  lead, 
halted  and  held  up  his  hand. 
"  Smoke,"  he  whispered,  sniffing  the  air. 
"  Aye,"  whispered  Dick,  also  sniffing. 
Ed  now  sank  to  his  hands  and  knees,  paus- 
ing frequently  in  his  advance  to  reconnoitre. 
Presently  he  ceased  to  move,  his  rifle  extended 
before  him,  until  Dick  and  Bill  drew  along- 
side. 

"  There's  th'  fire,"  he  whispered,  "an' 
there's  where  they  was  camped,  but  it's  lookin' 
t'  me  as  if  they's  gone." 

The  smouldering  embers  of  a  camp-fire  in 
the  centre  of  the  open  spot  where  the  wigwam 
had  stood  the  previous  day,  lay  directly  in 
front  of  them.    On  a  tree  hung  some  unfin- 


ON  THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  INDIANS    163 

ished  snow-shoe  frames,  and  there  were  many 
signs  of  a  hurried  departure 

''What  you  thinkf  Dick  whispered. 
Ih   devils  may  be  hidin'  back  here,"  an- 
swered Ed.     "Yon  nn'  Rill   =* 
™.*  u      ,.,         ^°«  an    Bill  stay  now,  an' 
watch,  whilst  I  looks." 

Very  cautiously  Ed  stole  away,  and  Dick 
Blake  and  Bill  Campbell  waited  patiently  for 
an  hour,  when  they  discovered  him  walking 
boldly  down  toward  them. 

"  They's  gone,"  he  announced.  "  I  seen 
their  canoe  makin'  a  landin-  on  th'  other  side 
where  th'  river  widens,  away  up  above  here  " 
An  examination  of  the  camping  ground  eon- 
firmed  their  conclusion  that  the  Indians  had 
in  some  manner  learned  of  their  danger  and 
had  fled,  evidently  in  great  haste,  leaving  be- 
hind them  the  snowshoe  frames  and  Le 
other  trifles. 

"  That's  explainin',  now,  what  that  sneakin' 
injnn  lass  was  up  to,"  declared  Ed 

;;  What  were  she  up  to,  nowf"  asked  Dick. 

She  were  up  to  this."  said  Ed :  "  she  were 

watohm'  at  th'  river  tilt  for  our  comin',  an- 

when  we  comes  she  up  an'  tells  tb'  Injuns 

we're  on  their  trail,  an'  they  gets  out  quid! 


164  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

That's  why  she  weren't  stoppin'  when  she  sees 
our  fire  last  night,  an'  we'll  never  be  seein' 
her  again.  She's  a  Nascaupee,  an'  it's  lookin' 
now  as  if  th'  Nascaupees  an'  Mingens'll  be 
workin'  t'gether,  an'  if  they  be,  they'll  be 
layjn'  for  us.     >w,  an'  we  got  t'  look  out." 

"  Aye,"  agreed  Dick,  "  that's  what  they'll 
be  doin',  nt\  ,  an'  we  got  t'  look  cut." 

"  Well,"  sighed  Ed,  as  they  turned  to  re- 
trace their  steps  to  the  portage  trail,  "  we 
may's  well  get  back  an'  lay  our  plans.  Them 
Injun  females  is  worse 'n  wolverines;  they's 
no  trustin'  any  of  un." 


XIV 
THE  MATCHIMANITU  IS  CHEATED 

p-tt.i.di:;^,f;!/»-'^''-.-<^whereC: 

™  t'  th'  river  tit'.r?'  ""    •'""'^  '""ke 

a  canoe,  an'  if  thp.  ^""  '"'^'°' 

an'wa,;Jtl;'Tnn:i*'^^'''^*'-''^' 
«-  t  W„er,  wCvel.'^^T^sC'"  T^ 
^ait  t'  show  nn  th'  way  t' 1  '  ""'  '''''" 
doin'  that  she  won'tl!  ol  "'  ""^  ''^'  ""' 
t'morrer."  '  "''""'    «"  they  does 

_  8  mighty  disappointing." 

5™  .h.  for...  i...s;x.",;;l'°"'"' 

loS 


166 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


III 


m 


Bob  had  loft  in  the  first  tilt  of  the  new  trail, 
and  which  she  had  observed  at  the  time  she 
found  and  carried  away  Bob's  rifle;  the  other 
a  tracking  line  which  the  trappers  had  used 
on  their  last  trip  up  the  river,  and  which  she 
had  discovered  in  the  river  tilt. 

"  Is  it  well  with  White  Brother  of  the  Snow 
and  his  friend  f  "  she  asked,  stepping  eagerly 
forward  to  the  river  bank. 

"  It  is,  and  they  are  glad  to  see  Manika- 
wan,"  answered  Bob. 

"  They  will  do  now  as  Manika  wan  directs, 
and  they  will  soon  again  be  free  to  hunt  the 
atuk  (caribou),  the  -.uishku  (beaver),  and  the 
neejuk  (otter),"  she  promised. 

With  this  she  tied  the  ropes  securely  to- 
gether, end  to  end,  and  then  producing  a  quan- 
tity of  salmon  twine,  which  she  had  appro- 
priated for  the  purpose  from  one  of  the  tilts, 
tied  an  end  of  this  to  one  end  of  the  connected 
ropes.  She  now  proceeded  to  coil  the  twine 
carefully  upon  a  smooth  flat  rock  at  her  feet, 
after  which  she  drew  from  her  quiver  a  long, 
blunt-nosed  arrow,  and  directly  above  the 
feathered  end  of  the  arrow  attached  the  loose 
end  of  the  twine. 


!D, 


THE  MATCHI  MANITU  IS  CHEATED    167 

These  preliminary  arrangements  completed, 
and  her  plan  of  rescue  ready  for  the  test, 
Manikawan  stood  erect,  bow  and  arrow  in  po- 
sition, and  a  moment  later  the  arrow  Hew  out 
across  the  water  and  fell  upon  the  gravelly 
point. 

Ungava  Bob  sprang  forward,  seized  the 
twine,  still  fast  tied  to  the  arrow,  and  rapidly 
drew  it  and  the  end  of  the  rope  attached  to 
the  twine  to  him,  while  Manikawan  played 
out  the  coil. 

"  Now,"  said  she,  "  let  White  Brother  of 
the  Snow  make  the  line  which  he  has  received 
fast  and  tight  to  the  bow  thwart  of  his  canoe. 
"  White  Brother  of  the  Snow  and  his  friend 
will  then  place  their  canoe  into  the  water  with 
Its  bow  facing  the  river  as  it  comes  down  to 
meet  them.  They  will  paddle  hard  against 
the  river,  for  the  Matchi  Manitu  (bad  spirit) 
beneath  the  waves  will  draw  them  backward 
toward  the  place  where  the  water  is  white  and 
angry. 

"  They  need  not  fear.  Manikawan  holds 
one  end  of  the  rope  in  her  hand.  The  other 
end  will  be  fast  to  the  canoe.  Manikawan  is 
strong  and  she  will  not  let  the  Matchi  Manitu 


AUOOCOrv  nSOlUTION  ikt  chaiit 

(ANSI  ond  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2| 


2^ 

1^ 

3.2 

W22 

3.6 

JH^m 

1.0 

i^ 

1^1^  I 


1.8 


1.6 


^  APPLIED  IN/HGE    Inc 

Hff^-  '653  East  Main  Street 

!g'-a  Rocnesttr.  Ne*  York        U609       US* 

'..^a  (?'6)  *82  -  0300  -  Pfione 

^SS  (716)  i;88  -  5969  -  Fa. 


'■! 


168  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

draw  White  Brother  of  the  Snow  and  his 
friend  down. 

"  While  White  Brother  of  the  Snow  and  his 
friend  paddle,  their  canoe  will  move  toward 
the  place  where  Manikawan  stands.  Near  the 
shore  the  spirits  are  weaker  than  where  the 
water  is  deep. 

"  When  their  canoe  is  near  the  shore, 
Manikawan  will  let  it  go  backward  very  slowly 
to  the  place  where  the  bank  slopes." 

Bob  ran  the  end  of  rope  under  and  around 
the  bow  thwart,  as  Manikawan  directed,  knot- 
ting it  securely,  leaving  sufficient  length  to 
extend  back  to  the  centre  thwart,  around 
which  he  again  wrapped  it  and  finally  tied 
the  end.  This  he  did  in  order  that  the  strain 
upon  the  canoe  might  be  more  evenly  dis- 
tributed. 

With  Shad's  rifle  and  shotgun  and  their 
few  other  possessions  in  the  canoe,  they  imme- 
diately placed  it  in  the  water.  Bob  held  it 
while  Shad  took  a  kneeling  position  in  the 
stern,  then  himself  stepped  lightly  to  his  place 
in  the  bow,  and  in  an  instant  they  were  afloat 
in  the  rushing  water,  paddling  fast  and  hard 
in  order  to  relieve  the  stress  upon  the  long 


THE  MATCHI  MANITU  IS  CHEATED  169 

line,  and  to  keep  the  canoe  head  on  to  the 
current. 

A  few  moments  later  they  found  themselves 
close  under  the  mainland  bank,  with  Manika- 
wan  Jetting  them  slip  slowly  do^™  to  the  slop- 
ing rock.  ^ 

Though  the  treacherous  footing  on  the  steep, 
slippery  incline  rendered  it  a  hazardous  un- 
dertaking, the  landing  was  safely  accom- 
plished, and  the  canoe  brought  ashore 

When  Manikawan  saw  the  young  adven- 
turers standing  before  her,  her  work  of 
rescue  completed  and  the  excitement  and 
uncertainty  of  the  preceding  days  and 
nights  at  an  end,  she  sank  upon  the 
ground,  weak,  dazed,  and  overcome  with 
fatigue. 

During  sixty  hours  her  only  sleep  or  refresh- 
ment had  been  that  snatched  the  preceding 
morning  in  the  tilt,  and  throughout  the  entire 
period  she  had  been  bending  herself  to  almost 
superhuman  elfort. 

After  all,  she  was  but  a  girl.  Human  emo- 
tions are  pretty  much  the  same  the  world  over 
irrespective  of  race,  and  Manikawan,  the  In- 
dian maiden,  was  very  human  indeed  in  her 


170 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


'    t    ■ 
'■i    -I 

,1,     ;       ^i  i 


emotions  and  the  limit  of  her  physical  en- 
durance. 

She  looked  faint  and  weary,  indeed,  as  Shad 
and  Bob  beiit  over  her  solicitously,  but  pres- 
ently she  indicated  her  desire  to  rise;  and 
slowly,  for  Manikawan's  exhaustion  was  still 
apparent.  Bob  led  the  way  while  the  three  took 
a  direct  course  to  the  tilt  on  the  first  lake. 

It  was  not  far,  and  in  the  course  of  an  hour, 
mounting  a  ridge,  they  saw  the  lake  shimmer- 
ing below  them  and  the  little  tilt  nestling 
among  the  trees  on  the  shore. 

"  How  good  it  looks!  Almost  homelike  1  " 
said  Shad. 

"  Aye,  almost  homelike,"  echoed  Bob. 

At  the  tilt  they  made  a  fire  under  the  trees, 
and  Bob  quickly  brewed  a  kettle  of  strong  tea, 
and  prepared  food ;  and  when  Manikawan  had 
taken  nourishment,  she  was  sent  into  the  tilt 
for  the  rest  she  so  much  needed. 

Bob  and  Shad  were  still  lingering  over  their 
meal  when  they  looked  up  to  find  Dick  Blake, 
Ed  Matheson,  and  Bill  Campbell  staring  at 
them  from  the  edge  of  the  woods. 

"  Hello!  "  cried  Shad,  jumping  up  in  pleas- 
ure to  greet  their  friends. 


IS  CHEATED    171 
'  set  in  an'  Lave  a 


THE  MATCHI  MANITU 

"  Evenin',"  said  Bob;  ' 
drop  0'  tea  an'  a  bite." 

"  Well,  now,  I  wern't  sure  I  see  straight!  " 
exclaimed  Ed,  and  the  three  strode  forward 
"  Here  we  was  thinkin'  never  t'  see  you  lads 
ag'm,  an'  arguin'  who  were  goin'  f  break 
th'  news  0'  your  death  f  your  folks,  an'  there 
you  be,  eatin'!  Bob,  I'm  never  goin'  f 
break  th'  news  o'  your  death  ag'in  till  I 
sees  you  dead.  I  were  doin'  it  once,  an' 
now  I  comes  pretty  nigh  havin'  to  ag'in;  " 
and  Ed  nearly  shook  Bob's  arm  off  in  his 
delight. 

"  Aye,"  Dick  explained,  while  he  and  Bill 
followed  Ed  in  the  greeting  "  th'  Injun  lass 
M  kawan  comes  an'  tells  us  you  lads  was 
drove  over  th'  falls  by  Mingens." 

"  An'  we  goes  out  huntin'  Mingens,"  went 
on  Bill,  "  tryin'  f  kill  un,  an'  would  ha'  killed 
un  if  we'd  found  un." 

"Now,  what  devilment  were  she  up  tot 
That's  what  I  wants  t'  know,  tellin'  us  that. 
They's  no  knowin'  what  a  Injun '11  do,  least- 
ways a  female,"  declared  Ed. 

"  She  was  about  right,  now,"  said  Bob,  and 
he  proceeded  to  relate  the  experiences  of  the 


ns 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


preceding  days,  while  Shad  now  and  again  in- 
terjected dramatic  colour. 

"  Th'  lass  were  doin'  rare  fine!  Rare 
fine!  "  said  Ed.  "  An'  we  was  thinkin'  she's 
up  t'  some  devilment.  But  why  wem't  you 
shootin'  at  th'  Injuns  from  th'  canoe  when 
they  opens  on  you?  Your  repeatin'  rifle  would 
ha'  scattered  un,  Bob." 

"  I  left  un  in  th'  tilt  by  th'  first  lake  above 
th'  river.  Shad  were  steerin',  an'  he  weren't 
thinkin'  t'  use  his'n,"  Bob  explained. 

"  In  th'  first  tilt  above  th'  river?  "  Ed  re- 
peated. "  We  were  in  th'  tilt,  now,  Dick,  when 
we  comes  through,  an'  there  weren't  any  rifle 
there.  Rope  an'  tent  an'  other  outfit,  but  no 
rifle." 

"  No,  there  weren't  none  there,"  corrobo- 
rated Dick  and  Bill. 

"  Now,  'tis  strange,"  said  Bob.  "  I  left 
un  there,  didn't  I,  Shad?  " 

"  Yes,  you  certainly  left  it  there,  on  the  rear 
bunk,"  Shad  affirmed  positively. 

This  puzzled  them  long,  and  they  were 
never  to  learn  the  truth,  for  Manikawan,  on 
her  return  journey  for  the  ropes,  had  replaced 
the  rifle  exactly  as  she  had  found  it,  and  none 


THE  MATCHI  MANITU  IS  CHEATED   173 

but  herself  ever  knew  the  part  she  had  played 
in  the  river  tragedy. 

While  Manikawan  rested  in  the  tilt,  and  Bill 
Campbell  set  out  to  hunt  ptarmigans  ;'or  sup- 
per, Dick  Blake  and  3d  Matheson  in  Manika- 
wan'g  canoe,  and  Bob  and  Shad  in  Shad's 
canoe,  left  upnn  a  reconnoitring  expedi- 
tion to  the  tilt  from  which  the  two  latter 
were  returning  on  the  day  of  the  Indian 
attack. 

They  had  r  >  fear  now  of  an  Tndian  surprise, 
since  Ed  Matheson  had  observed  the  retreat 
of  the  savages  to  the  southern  shore,  and  they 
proceeded  boldly  to  their  destination. 

As  anticipated,  the  tilt  had  been  rifled  of 
its  contents,  chiefly  flour  and  pork.  The  tilt 
itself,  however,  had  not  been  burned,  and  was 
otherwise  undisturbed. 

"  They  was  thinkin',  now,  t'  have  un  an' 
t'  use  un  theirselvfcs  when  they  comes  here  t' 
hunt,  th '  winter, ' '  declared  Ed.  "They  thinks 
Bob  an'  Shad's  done  for.  Unless  they  gets 
scairt  out  by  th'  ha'nts  in  th'  water " 

"  The  what?  "  asked  Shad. 

"  Th'  ghosts  or  spirits  they  thinks  is  there. 
They's  wonderful  easy  scairt,  Injuns  is.    Oh, 


174    THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

I  knows  th'  Injuns;  I  been  havin'  trouble  with 
un  before." 

"  When  was  you  havin'  trouble  with  Injuns, 
now!  "  asked  Dick  sceptically. 

"  More'n  once,"  said  Ed.  "  There  were 
th'  time,  now,  I  comes  t'  my  tilt  an'  finds  a 
hull  passel  o'  Mountaineers— they  wan't 
friendly  in  them  days,  th'  Bay  Mountaineers 
wan't— so  many  they  eats  up  a  hull  barrel  o' 

my  flour  t'  one  meal " 

"  Now,  Ed,"  broke  in  Dick,  in  evident  dis- 
gust, "  you  been  tellin'  that  yarn  so  many 
times  you  believes  un  yourself.  Now,  don't 
tell  un  ag'in." 

"  'Tis  gospel  truth "  Ed  began. 

"  'Tis  no  kind  o'  truth." 
"  Well,  an'  you  don't  want  t'  hear  un,  I 
won't  tell  un,"  said  Ed,  with  an  air  of  injured 
innocence. 

"  What  was  it,  Ed,  that  happened  youJ  " 
asked  Shad,  laughing,  for  he  had  learned  to 
know  the  peculiarities  of  these  two  friends. 

"  Dick's  not  wantin'  t'  hear  un,  Shad.  He 
gets  all  ruffled  up  when  I  tells  o'  some  hap- 
penin'  I  been  havin'  that's  bigger 'n  any  he 
ev.  .'  has.    I  won't  tell  un  now;  'twould  make 


THE  MATCHI  MANITU  IS  CHEATED  175 
he  feel  bad,  an*  I  don't  want  t'  make  he  'jel 
bad,  nohow,"  said  Ed,  with  mock  magnanim- 
ity. "  But  tiitTo  were  another  time— I'll  tell 
you  o'  this,  SLad,  an'  Dick  don't  mind?  " 

"  Oh,  go  ahead  an'  yarn,  if  you  wants  to  I 
But  th'  Lard '11  strike  you  dead  some  uay,  Ed, 
for  lyin';  "  and  Dick  turned  toward  the  canoes 
in  disgust. 

"  Now  Dick's  mad,"  Ed  laughed,  "  but 
don't  mind  he,  Shad;  he'll  get  over  un." 

"  As  I  was  sayin',  now,  'twas  when  I  was 
layin'  my  trail  t'  th'  nu'th'ard  o'  Wanoka- 
pow.  I  gets  my  tilt  built  an'  all  in  shape  an' 
stocked  up,  an'  I  goes  out  one  mornin'  lookin' 
t'  kill  a  bit  o'  fresh  meat.  'Tis  early,  an'  too 
soon  t'  set  up  th'  traps,  for  th'  fur  ain't 
prime. 

"  I  gets  a  porcupine,  which  is  all  I  wants, 
an'  comin'  down  t'  my  second  tilt  about  th' 
middle  o'  th'  forenoon,  finds  un  all  afire  an' 
a  band  o'  twelve  Injuns— I  counts  un,  an' 
they's  just  a  dozen— lookin '  on,  an'  dividin' 
up  my  things,  which  they  takes  out  o'  th'  tilt 
before  they  fires  un. 

"  Now  I  were  mad— too  mad  t'  be  scairt— 
an'  I  steps  right  down  among  th'  Injuns,  an' 


:il 


176    THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

when  they  sees  mo  lookin'  fierce  ar'  ready  t' 
kill  un  all,  they's  too  scuirt  t'  uu  a  thing 
or  t'  run,  an'  they  just  stands  lookin'  at 
me. 

"  Well,  I  keeps  on  lookin'  wonderful  fierce, 
an'  jumps  about  d  bit  an'  hollars.  It  makes  me 
laugh  now  t'  think  Low  that  passel  o'  Injuns 
stared!  One  of  un  tells  mp  a  couple  o'  years 
after  that  they  thinks  I  gone  crazy. 

"  'Tisn't  long  till  I  gets  un  all  so  seairt  they 
thinks  I'm  goin'  t'  shoot  un  all  up,  an'  they's 
af eared  t'  run,  thinkin'  if  they  does  I'll  start 
right  in  quick. 

"  Then  I  thinks  it's  time  t'  break  th'  news 
t'  un,  an'  I  tells  un  if  they  builds  th'  tilt  up" 
new  for  me  I'll  let  un  off.  An'  they  starts 
right  in  t'  build  un,  an'  has  un  all  done  before 
th'  sun  sets.  Th'  same  tilt's  standin'  there 
yet " 

"  Ed!  "  called  Dick,  from  the  canoe,  "  if 
you're  through  yarnin',  come  on  now  an'  get 
started  back.  It'll  be  dark  now  before  we  gets 
t'  th'  tilt." 

It  was  dark  when  they  reached  the  tilt.  Bill, 
sitting  alone  by  the  camp-fire,  had  seen  noth- 
ing of  Manikawan  while  they  were  goLe,  and 


THE  MATC  HI  MANITU  IS  CHEATED   m 


ventured 


none  of 
disturb  L 

But,  when  they  arose  from  their  bed  of 
boughs  in  the  lee  of  the  ten  the  following 
morning,  they  found  that  the  fire  at  their  feet 
had  bee;,  renewed  while  they  slept.  Manika- 
wan  was  not  in  the  tilt,  but  presently  they  dis- 
covered  her,  standing  upon  the  pinnacle  of  rock 
near  the  lake  shore,  looking  toward  the  glow- 
>ng  East,  immovable  as  a  statue,  picturesque 
and  beautiful  in  her  primitive  Indian  cos- 
tume. 

As  the  rim  of  the  sun  appeared  above  the 
horizon  and  the  marvellous  colourings  of  the 
morning  melted  into  the  fuller  light  of  day 
Manikawan  extended  her  arms  before  her  for 
a  moment,  then  descended  from  her  rock,  and. 
observing  that  her  friends  were  astir,  she  ap- 
proached them,  h-^r  face  glowing  with  the 
health  and  freshness  of  youth,  and  bearing 
no  trace  of  the  ordeal  through  which  she  had 
passed. 

"White  Brother  of  the  Snow,  the  matchi 
mamtu  has  been  cheated.  You  have  escaped 
trom  his  power,  and  you  will  live  long  in  the 
beautLul  world,"  said  she,  for  the  first  time 


178 


THE  GAUNT  GHAY  WOLF 


adopting  a  more  pcrsunul  and  uffcetionate 
form  uf  addresH.  "  Munikawan'g  heart  is  a8 
the  rising  sun,  bright  and  full  uf  light.  It  is 
as  the  earth,  when  the  sun  shines  in  summer, 
warm  and  happy.  It  soars  like  the  gulls,  no 
longer  weighted  with  trouble." 

"  Manikawan  is  my  good  sister,  ond  I  am 
glod  she  is  happy,"  responded  Bob.  "  White 
Brother  of  the  Snow  and  his  friend  will  never 
forget  that  she  outwitted  the  Matchi  Manitu. 
They  will  never  forget  what  she  did." 

Ungava  Bob  and  Bill  Campbell,  sharing  the 
canoe  with  Manikawan,  Dick  Blake  and  Ed 
Matheson  the  canoe  with  Shad  Trowbridge, 
they  reached  the  river  tilt  that  evening. 
Manikawan  was  radiantly  happy,  but  Bob,  un- 
certain as  to  what  course  she  might  decide 
upon,  and  well  aware  that  any  attempt  to  send 
her  back  to  her  people  would  prove  quite  fruit- 
less if  she  chose  to  remain  with  them,  was 
much  disturbed  in  mind.  He  sat  long  by  the 
eanip-iire  that  night,  before  he  joined  his  com- 
panions in  the  tent,  still  undetermined  what 
he  should  do  to  rid  himself  of  her. 

When  mornirg  came  Manikawan  gave  no 
hint  of  going  until  breakfast  was  eaten.    Then 


THE  MATCHI  MANITU  IS  CHEATED   179 

with   her   customary   promptness   of  nction, 
Btanding  before  Unguvt  Bob,  ghp  announced : 
"  Monikawon  will  now  roturn  to  the  lodKo 
of  Sishetakushin,  hor  father,  and  wait   for 
White  Brother  of  the  Snow.    He  U  safe  from 
th'  Afntchi  Manitu.    She  will  wai*  •  nd  be  con- 
tented.   She  will  know  that  he   ■,  i,   the  coun- 
try of  her  people.    She  will  wait  for  him  till 
the  sun  grows  timid  and  afraid,  till  the  Spirit 
of  the  Frost  grows  bold  and  strong.    Then 
White  Brother  of  the  Snow  will  eome  to  the 
lodge  of  Sishetakushin,  and  there  he  will  rest 
Man'tawan  will  prepare  for  him  his  nabwe 
(st'     )  and  make  for  him  warm  garments  from 
the  skin  of  the  atuk." 

Without  further  preliminary  or  adieu,  she 
lifted  her  cano-.  pon  her  head  and  disap. 
peared  as  unexptciedly  as  she  had  appeared. 


p 

m 


XV 
THE  PASSING  OF  THE  WILD  THINGS 

IT  was  already  too  late  in  the  season  to 
attempt  further  distribution  of  supplies 
with  the  canoe.  Therefore,  the  boat  and 
canoe  were  carried  to  a  safe  distance  above 
the  river,  and  a  shelter  of  logs  erected  over 
them,  that  they  might  not  be  crushed  under  the 
weight  of  snow  presently  to  come. 

Two  days  later  the  lakes  were  clogged  with 
ice,  and  a  week  later  the  first  fall  of  snow 
that  was  to  remain  throughout  the  winter  fell 
to  a  depth  of  several  inches. 

Then  came  an  interval  of  waiting,  but  not 
of  idleness,  for  Ungava  Bob  or  Ed  Mathe- 
Bon.  Their  new  tilts  were  unsuppjied  with 
stretching  boards  for  furs  and  many  other  ne- 
cessities, in  the  preparation  of  which  they 
occupied  themselves  at  the  river  tilt,  while 
the  others  lent  a  hand;  though  nearly  every 
day  Dick  Blake  or  Bill  Campbell  accompanied 

180 


THE  PASSING  OF  WILD  THINGS     181 

Shad  on  hunting  expeditions  which  resulted 
in  keeping  the  larder  well  supplied  with  geese, 
ducks— now  in  their  southward  flight— ptarmi- 
gans, and  an  occasional  porcupine. 

The  birds  were  all  fat  and  in  splendid  condi- 
tion. The  ptarmigans,  now  changing  their 
mottled  brown-and-white  coat  for  the  pure 
white  plumage  of  winter,  were  gathered  into 
large  flocks,  and  easily  had.  A  considerable 
number  were  killed  with  the  first  blast  of 
frosty  weather,  and,  together  with  a  few  ducks 
and  geese,  stored  where  they  would  freeze  and 
keep  sweet  for  future  use. 

"With  the  last  week  of  October  active  trap- 
ping began,  when  fur,  though  not  yet  at  its 
best,  was  in  excellent  condition. 

With  November  winter  fell  upon  the  land  in 
all  its  sub-Arctic  rigour.  For  a  day  and  a 
night  a  blizzard  raged,  so  blinding,  so  terrific, 
and  with  the  temperature  so  low  that  none 
dared  venture  out;  and  when  the  weather 
cleared,  the  snow,  grown  so  deep  that  snow- 
shoes  were  essential  in  travel,  no  longer  melted 
under  the  mid-day  sun. 

Socks  of  heavy  woollen  duffel  were  now  nec- 
essary to  protect  the  feet,  and  buckskin  moc- 


15!.     '     il.  ■ 


188  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

casins,  with  knee-high  leggings,  took  the  place 
of  sealskin  boots. 

In  the  final  distribution  of  supplies  among 
the  tilts,  long,  narrow  Indian  toboggans  were 
brought  into  service,  and  the  loads  hauled 
upon  the  toboggans. 

Martens  and  foxes  were  the  animals  chiefly 
sought  at  this  season.  There  were  two  meth- 
ods followed  in  setting  the  marten  traps. 
Where  a  tree  of  sufficient  diameter  was  avail- 
able, it  was  cut  ofT  as  high  as  the  trapper  could 
wield  his  axe  above  the  snow,  and  a  notch 
about  four  inches  deep  and  fourteen  inches 
high  cut  some  distance  below  the  top  of  the 
stump  and  several  feet  above  the  snow.  The 
bottom  of  this  notch  was  given  a  level  surface 
with  the  axe,  the  trap  set  upon  it,  and  the  bait 
hung  in  the  side  of  the  notch  a  foot  above  the 
trap.  At  other  times  an  enclosure  was  made 
with  spruce  boughs,  and  in  a  narrow  opening 
the  trap  was  set,  with  the  bait  within  the 
enclosure. 

Fox  traps  were  set  upon  the  marshes,  and 
baited  with  rabbits  which  had  been  hung  in  the 
tilt  until  they  began  to  smell  badly,  or  with 
other  scraps  of  flesh.    The  trap  securely  fas- 


THE  PASSING  OF  WILD  THINGS     183 

tened  by  its  chain  to  a  block  of  wood  or  the 
base  of  willow  brush,  was  carefully  concealed 
under  a  thin  crust  of  snow. 

The  usual  routine  followed  by  Ungava  Bob, 
after  his  trail  was  once  in  order  and  his  traps 
set,  was  to  leave  the  river  tilt  on  Monday 
morning,  and  by  a  wide  circuit  around  lake 
shores  and  marshes,  embracing  a  distance  of 
some  fifteen  miles,  reach  his  tilt  at  the  far 
end  of  the  first  lake  at  night.  On  Tuesday  an- 
other wide  circle  of  traps  around  contiguous 
lakes  brought  him  back  again  at  night  to  the 
same  tilt.  On  Wednesday  his  trail  led  him 
to  the  tilt  on  the  last  lake  of  the  old  portage 
trail. 

His  original  intention  had  been  to  continue 
from  this  tilt  to  the  tilt  which  the  Indians 
had  robbed,  and  thence  to  the  last  tilt  on  Ed 
Matheson's  trail,  some  fifteen  miles  to  the 
northeast.  But  after  the  appearance  of  the 
Indians  it  had  been  deemed  unsafe  and  inad- 
visable to  do  this,  and  the  tilt  on  the  river 
above  the  portage  trail  was,  therefore,  tempo- 
rarily abandoned. 

With  this  modification,  his  Thursday  circuit 
of  traps  was  so  arranged  that  it  brought  him 


184  THE  GAUNT  GHAV  WOLF 

back  at  night  to  the  tilt  on  the  last  lake,  and 
on  Friday  he  proceeded  to  Ed  Matheson's 
last  tilt.  This  arrangrement  carried  him  dur- 
ing the  five  days  over  seventy-five  miles  of 
trail  along  which  his  traps  were  distributed. 

Ed  Matheson's  trail  was  so  arranged  that 
he  also  arrived  at  his  last  tilt  on  Friday  even- 
ing, and  he  and  Bob  thus  shared  the  tilt  each 
fortnight  from  Friday  until  Monday. 

Saturdays  were  occupied  in  making  repairs 
and  m  doing  the  thousand  and  one  odd  jobs 
always  at  hand,  Sunday  in  rest,  and  on  Mon- 
day the  return  journey  began  which  brought 
them  to  the  river  tilt  on  the  following  Friday, 
unless  by  chance  they  were  delayed  by  storms.' 
This   was    the   point   of  fortnightly    ren- 
dezvous for  the  four  trappers-the  junction 
point  of  all  their  trails.    Dick  Blake's  and  Bill 
Campbell's  trails  took  them  in  opposite  direc- 
tions, and  durii  ,'  their  period  of  absence  from 
the  river  tilt  neither  saw  any  of  his  com- 
panions. 

The  fortnightly  reunion  at  the  river  tilt  was 
naturally  an  occasion  they  all  looked  forward 
to.  It  gave  an  opportunity  to  compare  notes 
upon  their  success,  to  recount  experiences,  and 


.;ii  ' 


THE  PASSING  OF  WILD  THINGS     185 

to  satisfy  for  a  time  the  human  craving  for 
companionship. 

Shad  made  the  first  outward  journey  with 
Bob,  and  returned  with  Ed  Matheson.  Then 
he  made  a  round  with  Dick  Blake,  and  finally 
a  round  with  Bill  Campbell. 

Every  feature  of  the  work  was  new  and  in- 
teresting to  Shad  Trowbridge,  and  for  a  time 
he  enjoyed  it  hugely.  But  presently  it  dropped 
into  a  dreary,  monotonous  routine.  The  vast 
unbroken  solitude,  the  endless  tramping  over 
endless  snow,  day  after  day,  and  the  lack  of 
adventure  to  which  he  had  looked  forward 
served  presently  to  make  him  moody  and 
irritable. 

Shad  had  hoped  for  sport  with  his  rifle,  but 
no  big  game  had  been  seen-not  so  much  as 
he  track  of  a  caribou.    Long  before  this  the 
las    goose  and  duck  had  passed  southward 
Not  a  bird  save  the  ever-present  jr  -  had  been 
encountered  in  upward  of  three -.V       ,     Even 
the  rabbits,  whose  tracks  had  criss-crossed  the 
early  snow  in  every  direction  and  packed  it 
down  along  the  willow  brush,  had  unaccount- 
ably disappeared.    The  stock  of  fresh  meat 
save  a  pair  of  geese  and  three  pairs  of  ptarmi- 


i   ! 


li':U 


186  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

gans  reserved  for  a  Christmas  feast,  was 
exhausted. 

These  were  extraordinary  conditions.  The 
men  declared  that  never  before  in  their  experi- 
ence had  they  observer'  so  complete  a  disap- 
pearance of  game.  Caribou  were  usually 
rather  numerous  in  November.  In  previous 
years  ptarmigans  and  spruce  grouse  had  been 
so  plentiful  that  they  were  easily  killed  when 
needed.  One  year  in  every  nine  rabbits  were 
said  to  vanish,  but  otherwise  the  total  absence 
of  game  was  inexplicable. 

It  was  a  condition,  too,  that  caused  uneasi- 
ness. The  flour  and  pork  brought  into  the 
country  by  the  trappers  was  far  from  ade- 
quate to  supply  their  needs.  Sufficient  wild 
game  to  at  least  double  their  provision  supply 
was  an  absolute  essential  if  they  were  to  con- 
tinue on  the  trails.  Thus  far  the  early  game 
had  supplied  their  requirements,  but  the  [>ros- 
pects  for  the  future  were  disquieting. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  week  in  December, 
Bill  Campbell  and  Shad  returned  from  their 
fortnight  on  the  trail  to  find  their  friends  al- 
ready at  the  river  tilt  and  discussing  the 
situation. 


THE  PASSING  OF  WILD  THINGS     187 

"  What  you  bavin',  this  cruise,  Bill?  "asked 
Dick,  wlieu  the  greetings  were  over. 

"  Th'  worst  cruise  I  ever  has,"  Bill  replied 
as  he  drew  off  his  adicky.    "  One  white  fox- 
nothm'  else,  an'  no  footin'  now  t'  speak  of 
Shad  an'  me  never  see  a  hair  or  feather  bar- 
nn'  th'  fox  I  catches,  an'  he  were  a  poor  un." 
"  I  gets  one  marten  an'  a  red,  up  an'  back  " 
said  Dick.    "  Ed  gets  nothin',  an'  Bob  gets 
one  marten.    'Tis  a  wonderful  bad  showin'." 
"Aye,  a   wonderful  bad  showin',  gettin' 
never  a  hair,  an'  that's  what  I  gets,"  declared 
Ed,  ,n  disgust.    "  If  th'  next  cruise  don't  show 
a  wonderful  lot  better,  I  starts  for  th'  Bay  th' 
mornin'  after  Christmas,  an'  I'll  not  be  comin' 
back  till  th'  middle  o'  February,  whatever  " 
The  dough  bread,  fried  pork,  and  tea,  which 
Ed  and  Bob  had  been  prepar"  g,  were  ready 
and,  the  meal  disposed  of,  pi,  a&  were  lighted 
and  the  discussion  of  the  all-important  ques- 
tion was  resumed. 

"  'Tisn't  th'  havin'  a  poor  cruise  now  an' 
agam's  what's  botherin'  me,"  began  Ed,  "  but 
they  ain't  no  footin';  and  where  they  ain't  no 
footm',  they  ain't  nothin';  an'  where  they 
ain't  nothin',  they  ain't  no  use  huntin'  it." 


m' 


188         THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOJJ- 

"  They  ain  't  even  a  pa  'tridge  t '  be  Wiled  for 
th'  pot,"  complained  Bill. 

"  No,  an'  we'll  be  seein'  th'  end  of  our  grub 
with  nothin'  t'  help  out,  by  th'  end  o'  Febru- 
ary, whatever,"  Ed  dolefully  prophesied. 

"  Isn't  there  danger  of  scurvy  if  we  have 
nothing  but  salt  pork  to  eatf  "  naked  Shad. 

"  That  they  is,  sure  as  shootin',"  agreed 
£d. 

"  If  you'd  like  to  go  along  with  me,  Shad  " 
suggested  Bob,  who  ud  to  this  time  had  said 
little,  "  we'll  take  a  flat-sled  with  your  tent 
an'  a  tent  stove,  an'  a  couple  weeks'  grub,  an' 
go  down  t'  th'  nu'th'ard  an'  see  if  we  can't 
run  onto  some  deer.  Th'  deer's  somewheres, 
an  if  they  ain't  here  they  mast  be  t'  th' 
nu'th'ard." 

"  Of  course  I'll  go  with  you.  Bob,"  said 
Shad,  delighted  with  the  prospect  of  individ- 
ual action  and  new  experiences. 

"  An'  you  may  be  runnin'  into  some  o'  th' 
Mountaineers  an'  Nascaupees  down  north,  an' 
let  un  know  about  th'  tradin'  next  year,"  sug- 
gested Dick.  "  If  you  tells  one  Injun,  th'  hull 
passel  o '  both  tribes  '11  know  about  un.  Things 
travels  wonderful  fast  among  th'  Injuns  " 


THE  PASSING  OF  WILD  THINGS  189 
The  following  day  two  toboggans  were 
packed  with  the  provisions  and  etjuipment  suf- 
ficient for  a  two  weeks'  absence,  together  with 
a  considerable  quantity  of  tea  in  addition  to 
their  probable  requirements,  and  some  plug 
tobacco,  designed  as  gifts  for  the  Indians. 

Long  before  daylight  on  Monday  morning 
adieus  were  said  ind  the  two  young  adven- 
turers turned  into  the  frozen,  silent  wastes  to 
the  northward.  Bob  in  the  lead  making  a  rapid 
pace.  Shad  following,  and  each  hauling  his  to- 
boggan. 


xvr 

ALONE  WITH  THE  INDIANS 

AT  the  edjre  of  every  froz.  ■,  marsh  and 
,  lake  Ungavn  Bob  paused  to  reconnoitre 
for  caribou,  but  always  to  be  disap- 
pointed,  and  when  be  and  Shad  halted  at  sun- 
down to  pitch  their  night  camp,  no  living  thing 
had  they  seen. 

Shad's  small  wedge  tent  was  stretched  be- 
tween two  trees,  snow  was  ban'ied  around  it 
on  the  outside,  and  u  thick  bed  of  boughs 
spread  upon  the  snow  within.  Two  short 
butts  of  logs  were  placed  at  proper  distance 
apart  near  the  entrance  and  inside  the  tent, 
the  tent  stove  set  upon  them,  and  with  an  am- 
ple supply  of  wood  cut  and  split,  their  night 
shelter,  with  a  roaring  fire  in  the  stove,  was 
warm  and  cosy. 

The  days  that  followed  were  equally  as  dis- 
appointing. The  smooth  white  surface  of  the 
snow  was  unmarred  by  track  of  beast  or  bird. 
No  living  creature  stirred.    No  sound  broke 

190 


ALONE  WITH  THE  INDIANS        191 

the  silence.    The  frozen  world  wqh  dead,  and 
the  siloni'e  was  the  uilcuco  of  the  sepulchre. 

"  It'H  80  quiet  JOH  can  hear  it,"  Shad  re- 
marked once  when  they  halted  to  make  ten. 

"  Aye,"  said  Bob,  "  'tis  that,  and  they's  no 
footin'  of  even  rabbits.    I  can't  iniikc  un  out." 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  third  day  after  leav- 
ing the  river  tilt,  they  came  upon  the  southern 
shore  of  the  Great  Lake  of  the  Indians,  and 
turning  westward  presently  discovered  Sishe- 
takushin's  wigwam. 

The  travellers  received  a  warm  welcome 
from  the  Indians.  Sishetakushin  and  Moo- 
koomahn  were  indeed  noisy  and  effusive  in 
their  greeting.  Manikawan  radiated  pleasure, 
but  she  and  her  mother,  a  large,  fat  woman,  as 
became  their  status  as  women,  remained  in 
the  background. 

The  Indians  had  killed  some  caribou  early 
in  the  season,  and  jerked  the  meat.  They  had 
just  killed  a  bear  whose  winter  den  they  had 
discovered,  and  over  the  fire  was  a  kettle  of 
stewing  beaver  meat,  upon  which  they  feasted 
their  visitors. 

At  the  proper  time  Bob  presented  them  with 
tea,  Shad  gave  them  each  some  tobacco,  and 


IM 


THE  GAUNT  OHAY  WOLF 


then  Bob  told  them  of  his  proposed  trading 
project. 

"  My  people  will  be  glad,"  said  Sishetaku- 
uhin,  "  and  yuu  will  have  much  trade." 

It  developed  in  the  course  of  conversation 
that  the  Indians  were  preparing  to  move  at 
once  to  the  Lake  of  Willows  (Petitsikapau),  to 
the  northwest,  in  the  hope  of  meeting  caribou, 
for  none  had  been  seen  by  them  since  those 
they  had  killed  in  early  fall. 

They  wore  to  cache  some  of  their  provi- 
sions near  the  Great  f  ake;  and  when  they  had 
made  a  sufficient  kill  in  the  North  to  supply 
them  with  food,  were  to  return  to  their  cache 
near  the  Great  Lake  to  trap  martens,  for  in 
the  more  northerly  country,  where  wide  bar- 
rens take  the  place  of  forests,  martens  are 
rarely  to  be  found. 

"  Bob,  here's  a  chance  I've  been  hoping 
for,"  said  Shad,  when  Bob  interpreted  to 
him  the  Indians'  plan.  "  Do  you  think  they 
would  be  willing  to  let  me  go  with  them 
until  their  return  here,  if  I  gave  them  some 
■tobacco?  " 

"  They's  no  tellin'.  Shad,  how  long  they'll 
be  away,"  suggested  Bob. 


ALONE  WITH  THE  INDIANS       198 

"  But  I  want  to  go  if  they'll  let  me  go. 
Please  ask  them,"  insisted  Shad. 

"  But  they  may  not  be  flndin'  deer,  an'  if 
th<y  don't  find  un  they  won't  be  comin'  back 
here  till  th'  end  o'  winter.  You  don't  want 
t'  be  with  un  th'  rest  o'  th*  winter,  Shad; 
'twill  be  rougher  cruisin'  than  with  us,"  Bob 
warned. 

"  Ask  hem.  I'm  going  if  they'll  have  me 
along;  "  and  Shad  displayed  in  his  tone  a  sug- 
gestion of  resentment  that  Bob  should  ques- 
tion the  advisability  of  anything  upon  which 
he  had  determined. 

The  Indians  discussed  the  matter  at  some 
length  before  flrally  giving  Bob  an  affirmative 
decision. 

"  Thpv  sars  you  can  go.  Shad,  but  they'll 
not  promise  t'  be  back  here  for  two  months, 
whatever,  an'  when  they  does  they'll  come  t' 
th'  river  tilt  with  you,"  said  Bob. 

"  Good!  It'll  give  me  some  change  of  ex 
perience,  and  the  chance  to  study  their  life 
and  customs  that  I've  wanted;  "  and  Shod  was 
elated  with  the  prospect. 

Partly  because  of  the  earnest  solicitation  of 
his  Indian  friends,  but  chiefly  in  the  hope  of 


M 


194    THE  GAUNT  GHAY  WOLF 

dissuading  Shad  from  his  determination,  Bob 
remained  in  the  Indian  camp  the  remainder  of 
the  week.  While  they  still  maintained  a  de- 
gree of  reserve  toward  Shad,  Bob  was  treated 
in  every  respect  as  one  of  them. 

Manikawan  made  him  the  object  of  her  par- 
ticular attention.  She  waited  upon  him  as  the 
Indian  women  wait  upon  their  lords,  antici- 
pating his  needs. 

In  expectation  of  his  coming  she  had,  after 
her  return  from  the  river  tilt,  made  for  him 
a  beautiful  coat  of  caribou  skins.  The  hair, 
left  on  the  skins,  made  a  warm  lining,  while 
the  outside  of  the  coat,  tanned  as  soft  and 
white  as  chamcis,  was  decorated  with  designs 
painted  in  colours.  Attached  to  it  was  a  hood 
of  wolfskin. 

Accompanying  the  coat  was  a  pair  of  long, 
close-fitting  buckskin  leggings,  and  a  pair  of 
buckskin  moccasins,  both  decorated,  and  the 
whole  comprising  the  typical  winter  suit  of  a 
Nascaupee  hunter. 

Manikawan 's  attentions  were  extremely  ir- 
ritating to  Bob,  but  he  could  not  well  avoid 
them,  and  to  have  declined  to  accept  the  gift 
which  she  had  made  especially  for  him  in  an- 


Bob 
erof 
I  de- 
sated 

par- 

3  the 
itici- 

ifter 
him 
lair, 
rhile 
and 
igns 
lood 

3ng, 
•  of 
the 
>f  a 

ir- 
oid 
jift 
an- 


ALONE  WITH  THE  INDIANS        195 

tieipation  of  his  coming,  would  have  caused 
her  keen  disappointment.  So  he  accepted  them 
and  donned  them,  to  her  evident  delight. 

"  Shad,"  said  Bob,  on  the  Sunday  evening 
after  their  arrival  "  I  has  t'  start  back  in  th' 
momin',  an'  you  better  be  goin'  with  me." 

"  No,"  insisted  Shad,  "  I'll  stick  to  the  In- 
dians for  a  while." 

The  following  morning  Bob  bade  them 
adieu. 

"  Take  care  of  yourself,  old  man,"  said 
Shad.    "I'll  see  you  in  a  month  or  so." 

"  I  hopes  so.  Shad,  an'  you  take  care  0' 
yourself,  now.  I'm  fearin'  f  leave  you 
Shad."  ' 

"  Oh,  I  knov  how  to  look  out  for  myself  " 
declared  Shad.    "  Don't  worry  about  me."' 

Turning  to  Manikawan,  who  stood  mutely 
waiting  for  the  word  of  farewell  that  she 
hoped  Bob  would  bestow  upon  her,  he  said,  in 
the  Indian  tongue: 

"  White  Brother  of  the  Snow  must  go  to 
his  hunting  grounds.  He  is  leaving  behind  him 
his  friend.  Will  Manikawan  minister  to  his 
friend  as  she  would  to  himf  Will  she  see  that 
no  harm  comes  to  himf  " 


196 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


"  Manikawan  will  do  as  White  Brother  of 
the  Snow  directs,"  she  answered.  "  She  will 
minister  to  his  friend's  needs.  She  will  make 
for  his  friend  the  nabwe.  His  friend  will  not 
be  hungry.  Manikawan  will  care  for  him  un- 
til White  Brother  of  the  Snow  is  weary  of 
hunting  and  comes  again  to  Sishetakushin's 
lodge.  She  will  do  *his  because  he  is  the  friend 
of  White  Brother  of  the  Snow." 

Then  Bob  turned  into  the  white,  frigid 
waste  to  the  southward,  and  Shad  was  alone 
with  the  Indians. 


XVII 

CHRISTMAS  AT  THE  RIVER  TILT 

mRISTMAS  fell  on  Thursday  that  year, 
and  it  had  been  arranged  that  the  trap- 
pers, by  turning  back  on  their  trails  the 
preceding  Saturday  instead  of  waiting  as  was 
their  custom  until  Monday,  and  by  slighting 
some  of  the  less  important  sections  of  the 
trails  on  their  return  trip,  should  gather  at 
the  river  tilt  on  Wednesday  evening,  in  order 
to  celebrate  the  holiday  with  a  feast. 

It  was  late  on  Christmas  eve  when  Ungava 
Bob,  returning  from  the  Indian  camp,  drew  his 
toboggan  into  the  clearing  in  the  centre  of 
which  stood  the  river  tilt.  Its  roof  was 
scarcely  visible  in  the  moonlight  above  the 
high  drifted  snow.  He  had  hoped  that  some 
of  the  others  might  have  arrived  before  him. 
but  no  smoke  issued  from  the  pipe,  and  fresh 
drifted,  untrodden  snow  around  the  door  told 
him  that  he  was  the  firsc. 
It  was  fearfully  cold.  Rime  filled  the  air. 
m 


198         THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

The  deerskin  coat  which  Manikawan  had  given 
him,  and  which  he  wore,  was  thick  coated  with 
frost. 

He  paused  before  the  door  and  stood  for  a 
moment  to  painfully  pick  away  the  ice  that  had 
accumulated  upon  his  eyelashes,  partially  clos- 
ing his  eyelids,  and  discovered  that  his 
nose  and  cheeks  were  frost-bitten.  He 
drew  his  right  hand  from  its  mitten,  and 
holding  his  nose  in  the  bare  palm,  covered 
the  exposed  hand  with  the  mittened  palm 
of  the  other,  quickly  rubbing  the  frosted 
parts  with  the  warm  palm  to  restore  circu- 
lation. 

Presently,  satisfied  that  the  frost  had  been 
removed  from  nose  and  cheeks,  he  kicked  off 
his  snowshoes,  shovelled  the  accumulated 
snow  from  the  doorway  with  one  of  them,  set 
the  snowshoes  on  end  in  the  snow  at  one  side, 
and  entering  the  tilt  lighted  a  candle  and  kin- 
dled a  fire  in  the  stove. 

Taking  the  kettle  from  the  stove  and  an  axe 
from  a  corner,  he  passed  out  of  the  tilt  and 
down  to  the  river,  chopped  open  the  water  hole, 
filled  the  kettle,  and  returning  set  it  over  to 
heat. 


Bi  .-:,  I 


CHRISTMAS  AT  THE  RIVEH  TILT    199 

Unpacking  his  toboggan  and  stowing  the 
things  away,  he  leaned  it  end  up  against  the 
tilt,  brought  a  bucket  of  water  from  the 
river  for  culinary  use,  removed  his  deer- 
skin  coat,  and  settled  down  in  the  now  com- 
fortable tilt  to  prepare  supper  and  await  his 
friends. 

Presently  he  heard  a  movement  outside,  and 
a  moment  later  Dick  Blake  poked  his  head  in 
at  the  door. 

"  Evenin',  Bob,"  he  greeted.  "  Glad  t'  see 
you.  Th'  tilt  smells  fine  an'  warm!  Where's 
Shad?  "  he  asked,  entering  and  rubbing  his 
hands  over  the  stove. 

"  Stoppin'  wi'  th'  Injuns.  I  were  tryin'  t' 
get  he  t'  come  back,  but  he  thinks  he  wants  t' 
go  huntin'  deer  with  un,  an'  stays,"  explained 
Bob.    "  Any  fur?  " 

"  Only  one  marten  an'  one  otter,  but  they's 
gooduns.  No  sign  o' fo.xes.  But  foxes  won't 
stay  when  th'  rabbits  goes;  "  and  Dick  went 
out  to  unpack. 

Presently  Bill  Campbell  arrived,  and  a  lit- 
tle later  Ed  Matheson  drew  his  long  form 
through  the  low  doorway,  his  red  beard  laden 
with  ice. 


soo 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


IC    fi 


"  Where's  Shad!  "  he  asked,  after  greet- 
ings were  esclianged. 

Bob  explained  Shad's  absence. 

"  Well,  now!  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Shad  must 
ha'  been  gettin'  light-headed  t'  do  that.  Well, 
he's  welcome  t'  'bide  'long  with  Injuns  if  he 
wants  to,  but  I'm  thinkin'  by  about  now  he's 
wishin'  he  wa»  where  he  ain't.  An'  by  t'raor- 
rer  he'll  have  boiled  goose  an'  fried  pa'tridges 
on  his  mind,  an'  wishin'  harder 'n  ever  he  were 
back  here  in  th'  river  tilt." 

"  He  were  wantin'  th'  hunt,  an'  now  he  may 
not  find  un  so  bad,"  said  Bob. 

"  He  won't  be  bavin'  no  feather-bed  time 
cruisin'  about  with  Injuns,"  insisted  Ed. 
"  Shad's  gettin'  wonderful  peevish  an'  sot 
in  his  way  lately.  He's  thinkin'  o'  th'  fine 
grub  an'  good  times  he's  been  havin'  t'  that 
college  place  he  talks  about,  mstead  o'  thinkin' 
o'  how  he  likes  rabbit  meat  three  times  a  day 
an'  betwixt  meals  when  you  an'  him  was 
'bidin'  a  time  on  th'  island  over  here  because 
you  wasn't  havin'  wings  t'  fly  off,  an'  they 
wa'n't  no  other  way  t'  get  off  till  th'  Injun 
lass  takes  you  off." 

"  Shad  weren't  gettin'  peeved,"  objected 


CHRISTMAS  AT  THE  RIVER  TILT    gOl 

Bob,  ready  to  defend  his  absent  friend.  "  He 
were  just  disappointed  at  flndin'  no  liuntin', 
an'  he  'bides  with  th'  Injuns  t'  get  some  deer." 
"  Maybe  so,  but  Shad '11  be  glad  enough  t' 
get  back  t'  th'  river  tilt,  an'  when  he  is  gettin' 
back  he'll  be  findin'  it  fine.  He'll  be  thinkin' 
o'  th'  tough  cruisin'  with  th'  Injuns  instead 
o'  th'  grub  at  his  college  place,  an'  that'll 
make  he  think  'tis  fine  in  th  'tilts.  That's 
the  way  it  mostly  is  with  folks.  They  always 
wants  somethin'  they  ain't  got,  an'  when  they 
gets  un  they  wants  somethin'  else.  An'  like's 
not  then  they  wants  what  they  was  havin'  first, 
because  they  can't  have  un  now." 

Ed  paused  to  pour  a  cup  of  tea  and  help 
himself  to  pork. 

"  Shad's  a  good  mate,  though,"  he  continued 
magnanimously.  "  He  ain't  gettin'  used  t' 
th'  bush  yet.  That's  all's  th'  matter  with  he. 
He'll  get  used  t'  un  after  a  bit,  an'  then  he 
won't  be  gettin'  peeved  like  he  is  now." 

"I'm  wishin'  he  weren't  stayin'  back  with 
th'  Injuns  now.  I'm  fearin'  he'll  be  havin' 
a  hard  time  of  un— an'  I'm  fearin'  he  may  be 
gettin'  in  trouble  not  knowin'  how  t'  take  un," 
Bob  remarked  solicitously. 


';f 


*0*         THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

"  I'm  wonderful  sorry,  now,  he  stays  wi' 
th'  Injuns.  'Twonld  be  fine  t'  have  he  here 
for  Christmas,"  agreed  Ed,  as  he  drew  a  plug 
of  black  tobacco  from  his  pocket  and  began  to 
shave  some  of  it  into  the  hollow  of  his  hand, 
preparatory  to  filling  his  pipe. 
"  Any  fur  this  trip  I  "  asked  Bob. 
"  Two  martens— both  fine  uns.  Not  so  bad. 
How'd  you  make  un,  Dickt  " 

"  I  gets  one  marten  an'  shoots  an  otter," 
answered  Dick. 

"You  gettin'  any,  Billt  "  asked  Ed,  turn- 
ing to  Bill,  who  was  reclining  in  one  of  the 
bunks  and  smoking  in  luxurious  contentment. 

"  Aye,  one  marten,  an'  I  shoots  a  wolf  last 
evenin'— a  wonderful  poor  wolf,  an'  his  skin 
ain't  much  account.  Three  of  un  were  after 
me  on  th'  trail  all  day,  but  I  only  gets  one." 

"  Three  wolves,  now— an'  poor  uns,"  com- 
mented Dick.  "  Wolves  ain't  follerin'  a  man 
all  day  unless  they's  hungry,  an'  they  ain't 
like  t'  be  hungry  where  they's  deer." 

"No,"  agreed  Ed,  who  had  lighted  his  pipe, 
one  moccasined  heel  drawn  up  on  the  edge  of 
the  bunk  upon  which  he  lounged,  the  other 
long  leg  stretched  out.    "  Wolves  f oilers  th' 


CHRISTMAS  AT  THE  HIVER  TILT    ffOS 

deer,  but  when  they  ain't  no  deer  t'  foUer  they 
don't  foller  un.  Which  means  they  ain't  no 
deer  ,n  this  part  o'  th'  country,  an'  bo  they 
jnst  naturally  follers  Bill  as  th'  next  best 
meat." 

;'  An'  bein'  poor  means  they's  hungry,  an' 
bein   hungry  means  they's  lickin'  their  chops 
for  Bill,"  continued  Dick. 
"  Were  it  night,  nowt  "  asked  Ed. 
"  No,   'twere  broad  day,"  answered  Bill 
undisturbed. 

"  Now  if  'twere  night,  I'd  say  they  was  fol- 
lerin'  you  because  your  red  hair  lights  th' 
trail  up  for  un." 

''  'Tain't  no  redder'n  your'n,"  retorted 
Bill. 

"Never  mind  un,  Bill,"  said  Bob  sympa- 
thetically. "  Ed's  jealous  because  your  hair's 
curly  an'  his'n  ain't." 

*'  Now,  how  about  gettin'  grubt  "  suggested 
t^d,  when  the  laugh  had  subsided.  "  They 
ain't  nothin'  f  kill,  an'  we  got  t'  haul  grub 
m  from  th'  Bay.  I'm  thinkin'  f  start  down 
Friday,  an'  if  one  o'  you  wants  f  go  along 
we'll  both  haul  up  a  load  on  our  flatsleds. 
How'd  you  like  t'  go,  BiUJ    They's  a  moon 


S04         THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

on'  by  travellin'  some  at  night  we'll  make  th' 
Bay  for  th*  New  Year,  goin'  light,  an'  be  back 
by  th'  first  o'  February,  whatever,  with  our 
loads." 

"  I'd  like  wonderful  well  t'  go!  "  answered 
Bill,  elated  at  the  prosiject  of  a  visit  to  the 
Bay,  brief  as  it  would  be. 

"  What  you  think  of  unT  "  asked  Ed,  ad- 
dressing Dick  and  Bob  jointly. 

"We  got  t'  have  grub  if  we  stays  on  th' 
trails,"  ogrced  Dick,  "an*  they's  no  sign  o' 
killin'  any  meat." 

"  Aye,  we'll  all  hove  t'  leave  th*  trails  by 
th'  first  o'  March,  whotever,  unless  some  of 
us  gop-  for  grr.b."  sold  Bob. 

"  Bill  on'  me  bein'  away '11  stretch  th'  grub 

we  has,  for  Bill  be  a  wonderful  eater " 

Bill  interjected  a  protest,  but  Ed,  ignoring  it, 
continued:  "  An'  what  we  hauls  back  on  th' 
flatsleds'U  carry  us  over  th'  spring  trappin'. 
We'll  be  startin'  early  on  Friday.  We'll  go 
down  your  troil  an'  spring  your  traps  up  on 
th'  way  out.  Bill." 

A  late  breakfast  of  fried  ptarmigans,  and 
a  late  afternoon  dinner  of  boiled  goose,  with 
an  evening  "  snack  "  of  ptarmigan  before  re- 


CHRISTMAS  AT  THE  RIVER  TILT      80S 

tiring— I  de  last  of  the  game  resen-ed  from  the 
fall  shooting— together  with  camp  bread  and 
tea,  comprised  the  Christmns  menu. 

Directly  after  brpakfnst  Ed  and  Bill  raaoa 
ready  for  packing  on  their  toboggans  the  light 
outfit  which  they  were  to  use  on  their  o  :t- 
ward  trip;  and  this  done,  the  four  held  a  serv- 
ice of  song  in  which  all  joined  heartily,  and 
spent  the  remainder  of  the  day  luxuriously 
lounging  in  the  tilt  and  telling  stories. 

Shad  was  sincerely  missed.  He  had  looked 
forward  keenly  to  the  Christmas  feast,  and 
many  hearty  good  wishes  were  expressed  for 
him— that  even  among  the  Indians  he  might 
pass  a  pleasant  day— that  he  would  not  find 
the  hardships  so  great  as  his  friends  had 
feared— and  that  he  would  soon  return  to 
them  in  safety  and  none  the  worse  for  his 
experiences. 

Then  the  thoughts  turned  to  home,  and 
speculations  as  to  what  the  far-off  loved  ones 
were  domg  at  the  moment. 

"I'm  thinkin'  a  wonderful  lot  of  home 
now,"  said  Bob.  "  Tell  Mother  an'  Father, 
Ed,  I'm  safe  an'  thinkin'  of  un  every  day,  an* 
of  Emily,  away  off  somewb-  ,3  in  St.  Johns  t' 


";   .  i 


■fc'i 


206         THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

school.  It's  makin'  me  rare  lonesome  t'  thir  i 
o'  home  without  Emily  there.  An'— an'— 1(  ,1 
Mother,  Ed— I  never  forgets  my  prayers." 

"  That  I  will,  ladl  "  promised  Ed  heartily. 
"An'  what  you  wantin'  me  t'  say  t'  Bessie, 
now?  Tell  she  about  th'  Injun  lass  an'  th' 
fine  deerskin  coat  she's  givin'  you?  " 

"  Tell  Bessie  I  always  carries  th'  ca'tridge 
bag  she  gives  me— an'  I'm  thinkin'  how  'tis 
she  that  makes  un— an'  I'll  be  glad  t'— get 
home  t'  th'  Bay,"  directed  Bob  hesitatingly. 
"  Oh,  aye.  Glad  t'  get  back  t'  see  th'  Bay, 
I'm  thinkin',"  laughed  Ed. 

As  Bob  and  Dick  returned  to  the  tilt  an 
hour  before  daybreak,  after  watching  Ed  and 
Bill  disappear  down  the  trail  in  the  still,  bit- 
ter cold  of  the  starlit  morning.  Bob  remarked : 
"I'm  feelin'  wonderful  strange— I'm  not 
knowin'  how.  'Tis  a  lonesomeness— but  dif- 
ferent—like as  if  somethin'  were  goin'  t' 
happen." 

"  An'  I  has  th'  same  sort  o'  feelin',"  con- 
fessed Dick.  "  'Tis  like  th'  stillness  before  a 
big  storm  breaks  at  sea— 'tis  like  as  if  some 
one  was  dyin'  clost  by." 


-   I 


ZVTII 
THE  SPIEIT  OF  DEATH  GEOWS  BOLD 

WHEN  Ungava  Bob  was  gone,  Shad 
Trowbridge  returned  to  the  deerskin 
lodge  to  think.     Now  that  he  was 
alone  with  the  Indians,  he  was  not  at  all  sure 
that  he  did  not  regret  his  decision  to  remain 
with  them  and  share  their  uncertain  fortunes. 
For  a  moment  the  thought  occurred  to  him 
that  he  might  even  yet  follow  Bob's  trail  and 
overtake  him  in  his  night  camp.    But  he  thrust 
the  impulse  aside  at  once  as  unworthy  consid- 
eration.   He  had  come  to  his  decision,  and  he 
was  determined  to  remain  and  play  the  game 
to  a  finish. 

He  craved  action  and  excitement,  and  the 
glamour  of  romance  that  surrounded  the  In- 
dians and  their  nomadic  life  had  attracted 
him.  It  was  this,  together  with  the  human  in- 
stinct to  play  at  games  of  chance,  and  the  pri- 
mordial instinct  slumbering  in  every  strong 
man's  breast  to  throw  off  restraint  and,  un- 
a>7 


208  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

trammelled,  match  his  brains  and  strength 
against  the  fortes  of  untamed  nature,  that 
had  led  Shad  to  adopt  the  red  man's  life  for 
a  period  which  he  believed  would  not  exceed 
three  or  four  weeks  at  most. 

In  preparation  for  departure  the  following 
day,  the  Indians  erected  upon  an  elevated  flat 
rock,  which  winds  had  swept  bare  of  snow,  a 
log  shelter  some  five  feet  square  and  five  feet 
high.  After  lining  the  bottom  and  sides  of 
this  shelter  with  spruce  boughs,  a  quantity  of 
jerked  venison  and  dried  fish  was  deposited 
in  it,  the  top  covered  with  boughs,  and  the 
roof,  consisting  of  logs  laid  closely  side  by 
side  and  weighted  with  stones,  was  placed  in 
position.  This  precaution  was  taken  to  pro- 
tect the  cache  from  marauding  animals. 

In  the  dim  light  of  the  cold  December  morn- 
ing the  deerskin  covering  of  the  wigwam  was 
stripped  from  the  poles,  folded  and  packed 
upon  the  toboggans,  together  with  the  simple 
housekeeping  equipment  of  the  Indians,  and  a 
sufficient  quantity  of  fresh  bear's  meat  and 
jerked  venison  to  sustain  them  for  a  fort- 
night. 

Immediately  the  march  was  begun  toward 


SPIRIT  OF  DEATH  GROWS  BOLD  809 
the  Lake  of  Willows,  Sishetakushin  and  Moo- 
koomahn  in  turn  taking  the  lead  and  breaking 
the  trail,  the  others  following,  single  file. 

Day  after  day  they  pushed  on  and  still  on 
through  scattered  forests,  across  wide  bar- 
rens and  over  frozen  lakes,  always  on  the  alert 
for  canbon  but  always  disappointed. 

Once  a  small  flock  of  ptarmigans  was  seen 
along  the  willow  brush  that  lined  a  stream 
Shad  drew  his  shotgun  from  his  toboggan  but 
the  Indians  would  not  permit  him  to  use  it 
and  in  disgust  he  returned  it  to  its  place  whilj 
he  watched  Sishetakushin  and  Mookoomahn 
kill  the  birds  with  bows  and  arrows.  He  mar- 
velled at  their  skill.  Indeed,  he  did  not  ob- 
serve a  single  arrow  go  astray  of  its  mark. 

Eleven  birds  were  secured  in  this  way-the 
first  game  they  had  seen,  and  the  last  they 
were  to  see  for  several  days. 
_A  dead,  awful  cold  settled  upon  the  earth. 
The  very  atmosphere  was  frozen.  Rime  in 
shimmering,  glittering  particles  hung  sus- 
pended in  space,  and  covered  bushes,  trees, 
and  rocks-scintillating  in  the  sunlight  and 
seeming  to  intensify  the  cold. 
The  few  brief  hours  of  sunshine  were  disre- 


«10         THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

garded.  The  sun  rose  only  to  tPTitalise.  For 
three  or  four  hours  each  day  i^  hung  close  to 
the  horizon,  then  dropped  again  below  the 
southwestern  hills;  and  its  rays  gave  out  no 
warmth. 

No  sign  of  game  was  seen  near  the  Lake 
of  Willows,  and  no  halt  was  made.  The  life 
of  the  Indians  depended  upon  the  killing  of 
caribou.  The  little  cache  of  jerked  venison 
and  fish  left  near  the  Great  Lake  would 
scarcely  have  sustained  them  a  month.  The 
few  ptarmigans  killed  now  and  again  were  of 
small  assistance.  The  food  tliey  hauled  was 
nearly  exhausted. 

Then  came  a  period  of  storm.  For  a  week 
snow  fell  and  gales  blew  with  such  terrific 
fury  that  no  living  thing  could  have  existed 
in  the  open,  and  during  this  period  a  halt  was 
unavoidable. 

Once  a  day  a  small  ration  was  doled  cut- 
pitifully  small— enough  to  tantalise  appetite, 
but  not  to  still  hunger.  Shad  was  consumed 
with  a  craving  for  food.  He  could  think  of 
nothing  but  food.  His  days  on  the  trails  and 
in  the  tilts  with  the  trappers  were  remembered 
as  days  of  luxury  and  feasting.    He  wondered 


SPIRIT  OP  DEATH  GROWS  BOLD  211 
if  Bob  and  the  others  had  thought  of  him 
when  they  ate  their  Christmas  dinner  of  geese 
and  ptarmigans.  "  Oh,  for  one  delicious  meal 
of  pork  and  camp  bread.  Oh,  for  one  night  of 
the  luxunous  warmth  of  the  river  tilt'  " 

When  the  storm  abated  sufficiently  to  per- 
mit them  to  continue  their  journey,  he  moved 
his  legs  mechanically,  even  forgetting  at  last 
that  the  effort  was  painful.  An  insidious 
weakness  was  taking  possession  of  him  It 
was  an  effort  to  draw  his  lightly-laden  tobog- 
gan.  It  made  him  dizzy  to  swing  an  axe  when 
he  assisted  Manikawan  to  cut  wood  for  the 
fire  His  knees  gave  way  under  him  when  he 
sat  down. 

Manikawan's  plump  cheeks  were  sunken 
aer  eyes  were  growing  big  and  staring.  Her 
mother  had  lost  half  her  bulk,  and  Sishetaku- 
shin  and  Mookoomahn  were  also  noticeablv  af- 
fected.  TTiey  no  longer  laughed  and  seldom 
spoke. 

As  one  performing  a  duty  that  must  not  un- 
der  any  circumstance  or  condition  be  neg- 
lected, Manikawan  conscientiously  looked  after 
Shad's  welfare;  but  still  she  treated  .,im  with 
the  same  degree  of  dignity  and  reserve,  if  not 


812 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


aloofness,  that  she  had  always  maintained 
toward  him.  He  realised  that  what  she  did  for 
him  she  did  because  be  was  the  friend  of  her 
beloved  White  Brother  of  the  Snow,  and  not 
for  his  own  sake — as  a  dog  will  guard  the  thing 
which  its  master  directs  it  to  guard,  faithfully 
and  untiringly,  for  the  maste^-'s  sake,  but  with 
no  other  attachment  for  the  tbing  itself. 

He  wondered  why  they  did  not  return  to 
their  cache  on  the  Great  Lake  after  the  long 
storm,  and  then  it  occurred  to  him  that  prob- 
ably their  destination  was  the  trading  post 
at  IJngava,  of  which  Bob  had  told  him. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day  after 
the  storm,  they  came  upon  a  single  wigwam. 
Sishetakushin  and  Mookoomahn  looked  into 
it  and  passed  on.  Shad  raised  the  flap,  and 
peering  in  saw  the  emaciated  figure  of  an  old 
Indian.  He  was  quite  stark  and  dead,  his 
wide-open  eyes  staring  vacantly  into  space. 
He  had  been  abandoned  to  die. 

That  evening  Shad  stumbled  over  an  object 
in  the  snow.  He  stooped  to  examine  it  in  the 
starlight,  and  was  horrified  to  discover  the 
dead  body  of  a  woman. 

The  following  mcTiing,  as  they  plodded 


SPIRIT  OF  DEATH  GROWS  BOLD      213 

wearily  forward  under  the  faint  light  of  the 
stars,  they  came  suddenly  upon  a  group  of 
wigwams.  Men,  women,  and  children  -ame 
out  to  meet  them— an  emaciated,  starved,  un- 
kempt horde  that  had  more  the  appearance  of 
ghouls  and  skeletons  than  human  beings. 
Some  of  them  tottered  as  they  walked,  some 
fell  in  the  snow  and  with  difficulty  regained 
their  feet. 

"AtukI  AtukI  Have  you  found  the 
atuk?  "  was  the  cry  from  all— a  hopeless  cry 
of  desperation,  as  they  crowded  around  the 
travellers. 

"  We  have  not  found  the  atuk,"  answered 
Sishetakushin. 

Some  heard  him  stoically,  others  staggered 
hopelessly  away  to  their  wigwams,  others 
wailed : 

"  The  Great  Spirit  of  the  Sky  is  angry.  He 
has  sent  all  the  spirits  to  destroy  us.  The 
Spint  of  Hunger— the  Gaunt  Gray  Wolf— is 
at  our  back.  The  raven,  the  Black  Spirit  of 
Death,  is  ready  to  attack  us.  The  Spirit 
of  the  Tempest  torments  us.  The  Spirits  of 
the  Forest  and  of  the  Barrens  mock  us.  The 
Great  Spirit  of  the  Sky  has  driven  away  the 


214  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

atuk,  and  our  peop  e  nr«  starving.  Many  of 
our  people  are  dead.  Four  of  our  hunters  now 
Jie  dead  in  their  lodges." 

Shad  Trowbridge  could  not  understand  what 
was  sa.d,  but  he  could  not  fail  to  understand 
the  situation. 

For  some  inexplicable  reason  the  caribou 
upon  which  the  Indians  depended  for  food' 
had  disappeared  from  the  land.  All  living 
things  save  these  starving  wretcii»s  had 
vanished. 

For  twenty-four  hours  not  a  mouthful  of 
food  had  passed  Shad's  own  lips,  and  a  sick- 
enmg  dread  engulfed  his  soul.* 


of  stalt,„n         '  '  """""  "'  """""■  ^^™'""  P""''^^ 


XIX 

THE  CACHE  ON  THE  LAKE 

SHAD  TROWBRIDGE  stood  dazed,  as 
one  m  a  dream-a  horrid,  awful  droam 
He  looked  through  a  haze,  and  what  he 
saw  was  distorted,  unreal,  terrible.  The  suf- 
fering creatures  about  him  wore  spectral  phan- 
toms of  the  nether  world,  the  shimmering  rime 
a  symbol  of  death,  the  endless  snow  the  white 
robe  of  the  grave  quickly  to  cover  them  all. 

A  sudden  stillness  fell  upon  the  camp,  to 
be  presently  broken  by  the  agonised  scream  of 
a  woman,  shrill  and  startling,  followed  by  wail- 
mgs  and  melancholy  moans.  The  Spirit  of 
Death  had  snatched  away  her  favourite  son. 

A  sickening  nausea  overtook  Shad,  and  he 
sank  upon  his  toboggan,  faint  and  dizzy  with 
an  overpowering  weakness.  His  imagination 
was  getting  the  better  of  him. 

It  is  always  dangerous  and  sometimes  fatal 
for  one  to  permit  the  imagination  to  assert  it- 
self in  seasons  of  peril.    Will  power  to  put 
its 


I. 


«16  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

away  thoughts  of  to-morrow,  to  think  only  of 
to-day,  to  do  to-day  the  thing  which  necessity 
requires,  coupled  with  a  determination  never 
to  abandon  hope,  is  a  paramount  essential  for 
the  successful  explorer  to  possess. 

In  this  moment  of  hopeless  surrender  Shad 
felt  Manikawan's  hand  rest  lightly  upon  his 
shoulder  for  an  instant,  and  looking  up  he  saw 
her  standing  before  him,  tall,  straight,  com- 
manding, and  as  she  looked  that  day  on  the 
river  bank  when  she  bade  him  and  Bob  wait 
for  her  return  to  free  them  from  their  island 
prison. 

"  The  friend  of  White  Brother  of  the  Snow 
is  not  a  coward.  He  is  not  afraid  of  the  Spirit 
of  Hunger.  He  is  not  afraid  of  the  Spirit  of 
Death.  He  is  brave.  He  once  out\  itted  the 
Matchi  Manitu  of  the  Eiver.  He  will  outwit 
the  Spirit  of  Hunger.  He  will  outwit  the  Spirit 
of  Death.  The  friend  of  White  Brother  of  the 
Snow  is  brave.    He  is  not  afraid  to  die." 

The  words  were  unintelligible  to  him,  but 
their  import  was  unmistakable.    She,  a  young 
Indian  maiden,  was  offering  him  encourage- 
ment, and  recalling  him  to  his  manhood. 
He  arose  to  his  feet,  ashamed  that  she  had 


ii    " 


THE  CACHE  ON  THE  LAKE        817 

read  his  mind,  ashamed  that  siie  had  found  it 
necessary  to  rpoall  him  from  a  lapse  into  his 
foolish  weakness  which  must  have  seemed  to 
her  like  cowardice. 

But  he  rememhered  now  that' he  was  a  man— 
a  white  man— and  because  he  was  a  white  man, 
the  physical  equal  and  mental  superior  of  any 
savage  there.  Looking  into  Manikawan's  eyes, 
he  made  an  unspoken  vow  that  she  should 
never  again  have  cause  to  chide  him. 

Dawn  was  breaking,  and  in  the  growing  light 
a  half-dozen  lodges  were  to  be  seen.  At  one 
side  and  alone  stood  a  deerskin  tent  of  pecu- 
liar form.  It  was  a  high  tent  of  exceedingly 
small  circumference,  and  where  the  smoke 
opening  was  provided  and  the  poles  pro- 
truded at  the  top  of  the  ordinary  wigwam, 
this  was  tightly  closed.  It  was  the  medicine 
lodge  of  the  shaman. 

Sishetakushin  and  Mookoomahn  had  en- 
tered one  of  the  lodges  immediately  after  the 
tumult  caused  by  their  arrival  had  subsided, 
and  Manikawan  now  followed  her  mother  into 
another  lodge.  There  were  no  Indians  visible. 
The  moans  of  the  grief-stricken  mother,  rising 
above  the  voices  of  men  in  the  lodge  which 


«18         THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

Sishetakushin  and  Mookoomalin  had  entered, 
were  the  only  sounds. 

The  air  was  bitterly  cold,  but  the  tragedy 
enacting  around  him  had  for  a  time  rendered 
Shad  quite  insensible  to  it.  When  he  did 
finally  realise  that,  standing  inactive,  he  was 
numbed  and  chilled,  he  still  lingered  a  little 
before  joining  Sishetakushin  and  Mookoo- 
mahn,  dreading  to  enter  the  famine-stricken 
lodges. 

At  last,  however,  necessity  drove  him  to  do 
so,  and  within  the  lodge  he  discovered  that  a 
council  was  in  progress.    In  the  centre  a  fire 
burned,  and  around  it  the  men,  solemn  and 
dignified,  sat  in  a  circle.    One  after  another 
of  the  Indians  spoke  in  earnest  debate.    They 
were   considering   what   action   they   should 
take  to  preserve  their  lives,  and  Shad,  as 
deeply  interested  as  any,  ft'    -^orieved  that 
he  could  not  immediately  i...  ,  i     '     ;  ,al  result 
of  the  conference,  which  cawe  to  an  end  as 
the  sun  cast  its  first  feeble  rays  over  the  bar- 
ren   ranges   that    marked   the    southeastern 
horizon. 

When  the  council  closed  the  Indians  filed 
out  of  the  lodge,  and  one.  a  tall  old  man,  fan- 


THE  CACHE  ON  THE  LAKE        jei9 

tastieally  attired  in  gjtins,  entered  the  modi- 
erne  lodge  alone,  carefully  closing  the  entrance 
after  him  to  exclude  any  ray  of  light. 

Immediately  drum  boats  were  heard  within 
the  tent,  accompanied  by  a  low  groaning  and 
moaning,  which  gradually  increased  in  volume 
and  pitch  until  presently  it  became  a  high 
penetrating,  blood-curdling  screech.  This  con- 
tinued for  perhaps  half  an  hour,  the  drum 
beats  never  ceasing  their  monotonous  rat-tat- 
tat. 

The  shaman,  or  medicine  man,  thus  work- 
ing himself  into  a  frenzy,  at  length  believed  he 
saw  within  the  lodge  the  ghostly  form  of  the 
particular  Matchi  Manitu,  or  evil  spirit,  re- 
sponsible for  the  disappearance  of  the  caribou 
and  the  resulting  famine. 

This  spirit's  wrath  it  was  believed  had  for 
some  reason  unknown  to  the  Indians  been 
aroused  against  them.  Only  the  shaman  could 
get  into  communication  with  the  spirit,  and 
learn  from  it  what  course  the  Indians  would 
be  required  to  pursue  to  placate  its  wrath, 
and  remove  its  curse. 

When  the  appearance  of  the  spirit  was  an- 
nounced, the  shaman  began  to  supplicate  and 


U\ 


820         THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

implore  the  Matclii  Manitu  to  withdraw  from 
the  people  the  pursuit  of  Famine;  to  return 
the  caribou  to  the  land;  and  to  preserve  the 
lives  of  the  dying. 

Presently  in  tones  of  joy  the  shaman  an- 
nounced that  he  had  succeeded  in  enlisting  the 
services  of  the  Matchi  Manitu,  and  with  the 
announcement  the  din  within  the  lodge  ceased, 
and  for  several  minutes  mysterious  whisper- 
ings were  heard. 

Suddenly  the  shaman  threw  over  the  lodge, 
and  in  a  state  of  exhaustion  tottered  forward.' 
Still  under  the  influence  of  the  paroxysms  into 
which  he  had  worked  himself,  he  delivered  in 
a  wandering,  disconnected  jumble  of  meaning- 
less sentences  the  demands  of  the  Matchi 
Manitu.  These  consisted  of  many  unreason- 
able and  impossible  feats  that  the  people  were 
required  to  accomplish  before  the  Spirit  of 
Starvation-the  Gaunt  Gray  Wolf— would 
cease  to  follow  upon  their  trail. 

The  Indians  began  at  once  to  break  camp. 
Sishetakushin  had  reported  no  caribou  to  the 
southward.  Their  only  remaining  hope  was 
to  reach  the  haven  of  Ungava  post  to  the 
northward;  and  they  were  to  begin  the  life- 


iJ 


THE  CACHE  ON  THE  LAKE        281 

and-death    struggle    northward    at    once-a 
struggle  in  which  many  were  to  fall. 

A  sense  of  vast  relief  was  experienced  by 
Shad  when  Sishetakushin  resumed  the  march. 
Famished  and  weak  as  he  was,  this  was  inex- 
pressibly preferable  to  a  continuance  with  the 
starving  crowd,  and  he  turned  his  back  upon 
the  camp,  little  caring  whence  their  trail  led. 

For  a  while  they  continued  northward  upon 
the  frozen  bed  of  a  stream,  which  they  had 
been  following  for  several  days,  then  a  sharp 
turn  was  made  to  the  eastward,  and  as  the  sun 
was  setting  they  came  upon  the  ice  of  a  wide 
lake. 

At  the  end  of  a  half-hour  of  slow  plodding 
across  an  arm  of  the  lake,  they  entered  the 
edge  of  sparsely  wooded  forest  and  halted. 
Sishetakushin  and  Mookoomahn  began  at  once 
to  remove  the  snow  from  the  top  of  what  ap- 
peared  to  be  a  high  drift,  and  a  little  below 
the  surface  uncovered  the  roof  of  a  cache  simi- 
lar to  the  one  they  had  made  on  the  shores  of 
the  Great  Lake  of  the  Indians,  where  Shad 
and  Ungava  Bob  had  found  them. 

Shad's  heart  gave  a  bound  when  the  object 
of  the  journey  was  revealed  to  him.   Here  was 


I  I: 


228         THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

food  and  promise  of  life!  And  Bob's  words, 
so  often  repeated  when  they  were  stranded  on 
the  island,  flashed  into  his  mind : 

"  It's  th'  Lard's  way.  He's  watchin'  you 
when  you  thinks  He's  losin'  track  o'  you. 
He's  takin'  care  o'  you  an'  you  does  your  best 
t'  take  care  o'  yourself." 

Manikawan  and  her  mother  stretched  the 
deerskin  cover  upon  wigwam  poles  used  the 
previous  summer  and  still  standing  near  the 
lake,  and  Shad  cleared  the  snow  from  the  in- 
terior of  the  wigwam,  while  the  women  broke 
boughs  and  laid  the  bed. 

In  the  meantime,  Sishetakushin  and  Moo- 
koomahn  opened  the  cache  and  transferred  its 
precious  contents  to  the  wigwam.  A  fire  was 
kindled,  and  in  the  cosy  warmth  of  their  shel- 
ter they  broke  their  fast,  which  had  now  ex- 
tended over  a  period  of  thirty-six  hours. 

The  small  portion  of  dried  caribou  meat 
doled  out  to  each  was  far  from  satisfying. 
Some  of  the  tea  which  Ungava  Bob  had  given 
the  Indians  still  remained.  A  kettle  of  this 
was  brewed,  and  it  served  to  stimulate  and 
warm  them.  Then  they  lighted  their  pipes  and 
for  a  time  smoked  in  silence. 


THE  CACHE  ON  THE  LAKE        ie83 

At  length  Sishetaknshin,  turning  to  Moo- 
koomahn,  began : 

"  On  the  Lake  of  the  Beaver  to  the  north- 
ward we  have  a  small  store  of  atuk  weas 
(deer's  meat).  We  also  have  there  the  cover 
of  a  lodge.  Three  suns  will  pass  before  we 
can  reach  this  store  of  food.  On  the  Great 
Lake  we  have  another  store. 

"  Sishetakushin  and  the  woman  will  travel 
to  the  Lake  of  the  Beaver.  With  the  store  of 
provisio-as  and  the  lodge  whi.h  we  find  on  the 
Lake  of  the  Beaver  we  will  travel  northward 
to  the  lodge  of  the  white  man,  where  the  water 
of  the  nver  joins  the  big  sea  water,  and  where 
we  shall  find  food. 

"  Mookoomahn  and  the  maiden,  with  the 
friend  of  White  Brother  of  the  Snow,  will 
travel  southward  to  the  Great  Lake.  Mookoo 
mahn  will  show  the  white  man  the  way  to  the 
lodge  of  White  Brother  of  the  Snow.  Then 
he  will  return  to  the  Great  Lake  and  trap  the 
marten  and  the  mink. 

"  When  the  sun  grows  strong,  and  drives 
away  the  Spirit  of  the  Frost,  Mookoomahn 
will  travel  northward  to  the  Lake  of  the 
Beaver.    There  he  will  find  Sishetaknshin  and 


m 


S24r         THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

the  woman  to  welcome  him.    He  will  take  his 
food  from  the  waters  as  he  travels. 

"  The  maiden  will  remain  in  the  lodge  of 
White  Brother  of  the  Snow.  Sishetakushin 
gives  her  to  White  Brother  of  the  Snow.  She 
is  his.  White  Brother  of  the  Snow  is  of  our 
people.  He  will  be  glad,  and  the  maiden  will 
be  glad.  White  Brother  of  the  Snow  has  white 
man's  food  in  great  store.  Mookoomahn  will 
not  be  hungry." 

"  Mookoomahn  will  do  as  Sishetakushin  di- 
rects," answered  Mookoomahn. 

For  a  time  all  smoked  in  silence,  then  Sishe- 
takushin resumed: 

"  Of  the  dried  meat  on  the  toboggan  Moo- 
koomahn and  those  who  are  with  him  will  eat 
but  once  during  each  sun.  They  will  eat  lit- 
tle. If  they  eat  much,  the  meat  will  soon 
be  gone,  and  the  Spirit  of  Starvation  will  over- 
take them  and  destroy  them." 

"  Mookoomahn  and  those  that  are  with  him 
will  do  as  Sishetakushin  directs,"  said  Moo- 
koomahn. 

A  series  of  signs  and  pantomime  conveyed 
to  Shad  the  substance  of  Sishetakushin 's  re- 
marks.  He  understood  that  on  the  morrow  the 


m 


THE  CACHE  ON  THE  LAKE  2«5 
party  was  to  separate.  That  he  with  Mookoo- 
mihn  and  Manikawan  were  to  return  to  the 
Great  Lake,  and  that  they  had  been  cautioned 
to  husband  their  provisions. 

He  surveyed  the  small  bundle  of  jerked  veni- 
son with  misgivings.  Even  with  one  light 
meal  a  day  he  calculated  that  it  could  not  last 
them  above  three  weeks.  Their  journey  from 
the  cache  on  the  Great  Lake  to  their  present 
position  had  consumed  a  month,  including  a 
period  of  one  week  when  they  were  storm- 
bound. 

Should  they  be  fortunate  and  encounter  no 
storms,  the  food,  sparingly  doled  out,  might 
serve  to  sustain  them.  If  storms  delayed 
tnem,  it  certainly  would  not. 

In  any  case  their  lives  must  hang  in  the  bal- 
ance until  the  cache  was  reached,  unless  game 
were  encountered  in  the  meantime,  which 
seemed  highly  improbable. 

A  meagre  meal  was  served  at  an  early  hour 
the  following  morning.  As  usual,  camp  was 
broken  long  before  day,  and  then  came  the 
farewells. 

The  parting  between  Sishetakushin  and 
Mookoomahn  was  affecting,  that  between  the 


I  :' 


SS6 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


women  more  stoical.  Shad  regretfully  shook 
the  hands  of  the  old  Indian  and  his  wife.  They 
had  been  friends  to  him,  and  he  had  no  ex- 
pectation that  be  should  ever  see  them  again. 
Then  Shad  and  his  companions  turned 
southward  into  the  wide  wastes  of  frozen  deso- 
lation that  lay  between  him  and  his  friends. 
It  was  to  be  a  journey  of  tragic  experiences — 
a  journey  that  was  to  try  his  metal  as  it  had 
never  yet  been  tried. 


THE  FOLK  AT  WOLF  BIGHT 

THE  Grays  were  very  lonely  and  the  lit- 
tle cabin  at  Wolf  Bight  seemed  deso- 
late  and  deserted  indeed  during  the 
first  days  following  the  departure  of  the  trap- 
pers  for  the  interior.    Mrs.  Gray  and  Emily 
cried  a  little,  and  often  Emily  would  say: 

"  I  wonders  where  Bob  is  now,  Mother,  an* 
what  he's  doin't  " 

"He's  workin'  up  th'  river,  lass,  an'  th' 
dirty  weather's  makin'  th'  trackin'  an'  port- 
agin'  wonderful  hard  for  un,"  she  would  an- 
swer, when  it  stormed;  or,  when  the  sun  shone, 
"They's  havin'  a  fine  day  for  travellin' 
now." 

But  presently  the  preparations  for  Emily's 
departure  for  school  occupied  their  attention 
to  the  exclusion  of  all  else,  and  they  forgot  for 
a  time  their  loneliness. 

Her  going  was  to  be  an  event  of  vast  im- 
portance.   It  was  an  innovation,  not  only  in 

S27 


SIS 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


their  houseliold  but  in  the  community,  for 
never  before  bad  any  of  the  young  people  of 
the  Bay  attended  school;  and  never  before, 
save  on  the  occasion  when  Emily  had  been 
taken  to  the  St.  Johns  hospital  the  pre- 
vious year,  to  undergo  an  operation,  had 
any  of  the  girls — or  women,  either,  for  that 
matter — been  farther  from  home  than  Fort 
Pelican. 

When  Bob  came  into  his  little  fortune 
through  the  salvage  of  the  trading  schooner, 
"  Maid  of  the  North,"  Mrs.  Gray  had  urged 
that  Richard  rest  from  the  trail  for  one  sea- 
son, and  at  the  same  time  give  the  animals  an 
opportunity  to  increase.  This  he  had  done, 
and  during  the  previous  winter,  when  Bob 
also  was  at  home,  he  and  Bob  had  occu- 
pied their  time  in  the  woods  with  the  axe 
and  pit  saw,  cutting  a  quantity  of  timber  and 
planking. 

There  was  no  immediate  need  of  this  tim- 
ber, and  when  Bob  was  gone  Richard  deter- 
mined to  utilise  it  in  the  construction  of  a 
small  schooner,  in  anticipation  of  the  trading 
operations  to  begin  the  following  year.  Such 
a  vessel  would  be  a  necessity  in  transporting 


THE  FOLK  AT  WOLF  BIGHT       SSg 

supplies  from  Fort  Pelican  to  the  store  at 
Wolf  Bight. 

Therefore,  he  began  at  once  the  work  of  lay- 
ing the  keel.  There  were  nearly  three  months 
at  his  disposal  before  he  would  go  out  upon 
his  trapping  trail,  and  in  this  time,  hoping  to 
accomplish  much,  he  remained  at  his  task  from 
early  morning  until  dusk  drove  him  from  it. 
Thus  occupied,  Mrs.  Gray  and  Emily  seldom 
saw  him,  save  at  meal  hours  and  after 
candle-light  in  the  evening,  and  this  made  them 
doubly  lonesome. 

One  day  late  in  August,  Douglas  Campbell 
sailed  his  boat  over  to  Wolf  Bight  to  spend 
the  day  with  his  friends  and  to  announce 
that  a  week  later  he  would  come  for  Emily 
to  take  her  to  Fort  Pelican,  where  they 
were  to  connect  with  the  mail  boat  for  St. 
Johns. 

This  recalled  the  near  approach  of  Emily's 
departure,  and  the  days  that  followed  passed 
with  amazing  rapidity.  Emily's  new  woollen 
frock— the  first  woollen  frock  she  had  ever 
possessed— needed  still  some  finishing  touches. 
It  was  to  be  her  Sunday  dress— to  be  worn 
at  church,  where  there  would  be  many  fine 


«80         THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

people  to  see  her— and  as  pretty  as  the  moth- 
er's skill  and  care  could  make  it. 

Then  there  were  the  print  frocks  for  every- 
day  wear,  to  be  freshly  laundered  and  packed 
with  other  clothing  into  a  new  wooden  chest 
which  her  father  had  made  for  her;  and  the  in- 
numerable last  things  to  be  done,  which  kept 
Emily  and  her  mother  in  a  contiuuous  state 
of  flurry  and  excitement. 

Quite  too  soon  Emily's  last  day  at  home 
dawned,  and,  true  to  his  appointment,  Dong- 
las  Campbell  arrived  during  the  afternoon. 
He  looked  very  grand  and  dignified  and  alto- 
gether unlike  himself  in  his  suit  of  grey  tweed. 
He  wore  'his  suit  only  on  those  rare  occasions 
—usual'  at  intervals  of  three  or  four  years— 
when  '.-.siness  called  him  to  St.  Johns,  and 
Emily  had  but  once  before  seen  him  so 
strangely  attired. 

He  looked  so  strange  and  unnatural— so  un- 
Uke  the  good  old  Douglas  that  she  loved,  in 
moleskin  trousers  and  pea-jacket  or  adicky— 
that  she  felt  he  was  somehow  different, 
and  that  the  world  was  going  all  topsy- 
turvy. 

And  then  for  the  first  time  there  came  to  her 


THE  FOLK  AT  WOLF  BIGHT       «3i 

a  full  realisation  of  the  great  change  that  wag 
to  take  place  in  her  life-that  she  was  going 
far  from  home  and  into  a  strange  land-that 
for  many,  many  months  she  was  to  see  neither 
her  father  nor  her  mother-that  she  was  to 
live  among  strangers  who  cared  nothing  for 
her-that  she  would  be  separated  from  those 
who  loved  her  and  all  that  she  held  dear  in  the 
world.    A  great  ache  came  into  her  heart-tlie 
first  heart-hunger  of  the  homesick-and  she 
slipped  away  behind  the  curtain  to  throw  her- 
self upon  her  little  white  bed  and  seek  relief 
in  stifled  sobs. 

Presently  as  she  lay  there,  weeping  quietly 
to  herself,  loud  exclamations  of  hearty  wel- 
come from  her  father  and  mother  as  some  one 
entered  the  door  caused  her  to  sit  up  and  lis- 
ten. Then  she  recognised  Tom  Black's  voice, 
and  heard  Bessie  asking: 
"  Where's  Emily?  " 

This  was  splendid!  Bessie  had  come  to 
spend  the  night!  And,  quickly  drying  her 
tears  and  forgetting  her  heartache,  Emily 
rushed  out  to  greet  her  friend  and  to  find 
that  the  whole  Black  family  were  there-Tom 
the  motherly  Mrs.  Black,  and  Bessie. 


S8S 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


"  Ob,  Emily,  I  ju8t  had  t'  come  t'  see  yon 
ofFI "  exclaimed  Betsie,  as  the  two  girls 
rushed  together  and  hugged  each  other  in  de- 
light. "  I  coaxes,  an'  coaxes,  an'  coaxes  Fa- 
ther t'  bring  me  over,  an'  be  just  teases  me 
an'  says  he's  busy,  an'  Mr.  McDonald  can't 
spare  he,  till  this  momin'  he  says  we're 
comin'.  An'  all  th'  time  he  an'  Mother's 
plannin'  t'  come  I  " 

"  'Twon't  do  t'  tell  a  maid  everything  yon 
plans  t'  do,"  Tom  chuckled. 

Bessie  pursed  up  ber  red  lips,  and  tossing 
her  head  at  him  laughed  gaily,  showing  her 
dimples. 

"  Oh,  but  you  just  had  t'  come  anyway,  for 
I'd  never  give  yon  a  bit  o'  peace  if  you 
hadn't." 

Her  cheeks  flushed  with  excitement  and  her 
eyes  sparkling  with  pleasure,  Tom  looked  at 
ber  proudly,  and  could  not  refrain  from  the 
remark : 

"  She  ain't  a  very  humbly  lass,  now  be  she, 
Richard »  " 

"  Now,  Father,  stop  teasin'  Bessie,"  cau- 
tioned Mrs.  Black.  "  He's  always  teasin'  th' 
lass." 


THE  FOLK  AT  WOLF  BIGHT       saS 


'  I'm  just  dyin' 


your  things,  Em- 


ily! "  exclaimed  Beaa 
friend's  bonnet  and  wrnpg.  "  An,  I  couldn't 
let  you  go  witiiout  seein'  you.  An'  I'm  goin' 
t'  stay  awhile,  too,  with  your  mother.  She'll 
be  so  lonesome  without  somebody  t'  talk  to 
when  you  goes." 

"Oh,  BesBic!  How  wonderful  glad  I  am 
o'  that!  I  were  just  thinkin'  how  lonesome 
Mother  were  goin'  t'  be  with  me  an'  Bob 
both  gone— an'— an'  'twere  makin'  me  feel 
bad;  "  and  Emily  brushed  away  a  tear. 

"  We'll  not  be  lettin'  your  mother,  nor  fa- 
ther, either,  get  lonesome,"  said  Douglas,  pat- 
ting her  shoulder  gently  and  looking  down  in 
his  kindly  way  into  her  face.  "  Bessie '11  be 
'bidin'  here  till  I  comes  back  in  October,  an' 
then  she'll  be  comin'  again  after  th'  New  Year 
for  a  long  stop.  An'  I'll  be  comin'  once  every 
week,  whatever." 

"  Oh,  I'm  hopin'  so  I  "  Mrs.  Gray  exclaimed. 
"I'm  not  darin'  t'  think  about  how  'twill  be 
when  Emily's  gone." 

"  Now  I  knows,  an'  Tom  knows;  an'  we  was 
talkin'  t'  Douglas  about  im  when  he  were  over 
t'  th'  post,  an'  we  were  aayin', '  Now  Bessie'U 


«84i 


THE  GAXJNT  GRAY  WOLF 


have  t'  go  over  an'  'bide  awhile  with  Mary 
when  Emily's  gone,'  "  said  Mrs.  Black. 

"An'  you  never  tells  me,  an'  just  lets  me 
tease  t'  come!  "  ponted  Bessie. 

"  We  were  wantin'  t'  surprise  you,  lass. 
An',"  Mrs.  Black  continued,  addressing  Mrs. 
Gray,  "  I  knows  what  'tis  t'  be  alone,  now, 
an'  th'  men  folks  is  all  in  th'  bush.  I  used 
t'  be  alone  before  Tom  takes  th'  place  t'  th' 
post;  but  now  we  has  plenty  o'  company." 

"  'Tis  wonderful  good  an'  thoughtful  of 
you!  "  Mrs.  Gray  exclaimed  heartily.  "  Now 
set  in  an'  have  a  cup  o'  tea  an'  a  bite.  You 
must  need  un  after  th'  cruise  over." 

The  evening  was  spent  in  chatting  and  vis- 
iting and  looking  over  Emily's  new  clothes. 
Neither  Emily  nor  Bessie — both  overcome 
with  excitement — slept  much,  however,  that 
night,  for  they  had  a  world  to  talk  about  as 
they  lay  in  bed — but  most  of  all  the  great  and 
wonderful  experiences  Emily  was  to  have. 

Emily  and  her  mother  clung  to  each  other, 
and  Bessie  to  both  of  them,  and  cried  and  cried, 
when  the  time  for  parting  came  the  following 
morning,  until  finally  Douglas  and  Richard 
were  compelled  to  draw  Emily  gently  into  the 


THE  FOLK  AT  WOLF  BIGHT  S36 
boat.  Then  motherly  Mrs.  Black,  surrepti- 
tiously brushing  tears  from  her  own  eyes,  put 
her  arm  around  Mrs.  Gray  and  soothingly 
urged: 

"  Don't  be  eryin',  Mary.  Th'  maid's  goin' 
t'  be  all  right,  an'  they's  nothin'  to  cry 
for.  'Twon't  be  so  long  till  you  has  she 
back." 

Eichard  had  the  hull  of  the  little  schooner 
well  under  way  when  the  mid-October  cold 
forced  him  to  abandon  the  work  until  the  fol- 
lowing summer,  and  he  was  preparing  to  set 
out  upon  his  trail  when  Douglas  appeared  one 
evening,  fresh  from  St.  Johns,  to  report  Em- 
ily comfortably  settled  in  the  home  of  a 
hospitable  family  near  the  school  she  was  at- 
tending, and  that  she  was  immensely  inter- 
ested in  her  studies  and  fairly  well  con- 
tented, though  a  little  lonesome  at  times  for 
home. 

Douglas  evidently  had  something  on  his 
mind  that  troubled  him.  Once  Mrs.  Gray 
asked  if  he  were  ailing,  but  he  denied  any- 
thing but  the  best  of  health.  Finally,  how- 
ever, as  a  disagreeable  duty  that  he  must 
perform,  the  kind-hearted  old  trapper  said: 


i^ 


I"    :   I  '' 


836         THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

"I'm  not  knowin'  just  how  t'  tell  you — 
'twill  be  a  wonderful  hard  blow  t'  th'  lad — 
th'  bank  where  Bob  were  puttin'  his  money 
has  broke,  an'  I'm  fearin'  th'  money's  all 
lost." 

"  Lost  I  Lost!"  exclaimed  Bicbard  and 
Mrs.  Gray  together. 

"  Aye,"  said  Douglas,  "  lost." 

Then  he  explained  fully  the  failure  of  the 
bank,  in  which  be  also  had  a  small  amount  on 
deposit,  and  the  improbability  of  any  of  the 
depositors  recovering  more  than  a  nominal 
percentage  of  their  deposits,  and  even  that 
doubtful. 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Gray,  "  'twill  be  won- 
derful hard  on  th'  lad,  an'  he  countin'  so  on 
th'  tradin'  business." 

"  Aye,"  repeated  Eichard,  "  wonderful 
hard  on  he.  Wonderful  hard  an'  disap- 
pointin',  after  all  his  plannin'  an'  hopin'  an' 
thinkin'  about  un." 

"An'  Emily's  schoolin'  charge!  How 
now  be  we  goin'  t'  pay  unt  "  asked  Mrs. 
Gray. 

"  Don't  worry  about  that,  now,"  said  Doug- 
las.  "  I  were  wantin'  she  t'  go,  an'  I  were  th' 


'i>  r 


THE  FOLK  AT  WOLF  BIGHT  237 
first  t'  say  for  she  f  go,  an'  I'll  see,  now,  about 
un  this  year,  whatever.  Don't  worry  about 
th'  Bchoolin',  now." 

"  But  we  can't  be  bavin'  you  pay  un,"  re- 
monstrated Eichard. 

"Well,  now,  don't  worry  about  nn,"  in- 
sisted Douglas.    "  We'll  see.    We'll  see." 

They  lapsed  into  silence  for  a  little,  when 
Bessie  remarked : 

"  'Tisn't  so  bad,  now.  'Tis  bad  f  lose  th' 
money,  an'  'twill  be  hard  an'  disappointin' 
t'  Bob,  but  he's  a  wonderful  able  lad— they 's 
no  other  lad  in  th'  Bay  so  able  as  Bob.  He's 
a  fine  lot  o'  traps  on  his  new  trails,  an'  he'U 
not  be  doin'  so  bad,  now." 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Douglas,  "  he  be,  now,  a 
wonderful  able  lad." 

"  And,"  Edchard  spoke  up,  beginning  to  see 
the  brighter  side  of  the  situation,  "  Bob  owns 
nn,  an'  he's  havin'  no  debt,  an'  he's  payin' 
np  all  our  debts.  They's  no  other  folk  o'  th' 
Bay  as  well  oflF  as  we  be." 

"  I  weren't  thinkin'  of  un  that  way.  I  were 
just  thinkin'  of  how  hard  'twill  be  for  Bob— 
givin'  up  th'  tradin',"  Mrs.  Gray  explained. 
"  But  we  has  a  lot  t'  be  thankful  for,  an', 


288         THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

as  Bessie  says,  Bob's  young  an'  wonderful 
able." 

But  nevertheless  it  was  a  hard  blow— a  dis- 
heartening blow— to  all  of  them.  Bob  had 
planned  so  much  for  the  future,  he  was  still 
planning  and  dreaming  of  his  career  as  a 
trader,  and  building  air  castles— away  up 
there  in  the  desolate  white  wilderness. 

This  meant,  instead  of  the  realisation  of 
those  dreams,  a,  tedious,  interminable  tramp- 
ing, year  after  year,  of  the  fur  trails,  an  al- 
ways uncertain,  a  never-ending,  struggle  for 
the  bare  necessities  of  life.  A  single  bad  year 
would  throw  them  again  into  debt;  two  bad 
years  in  succession  would  plunge  them  so 
hopelessly  into  debt  that  the  most  earnest  ef- 
fort for  the  remainder  of  hit  life  would  not 
relieve  Bob  of  its  burden. 


XXI 

THE  RIFLED  CACHE 

THE  cold  of  February,  intense,  searching, 
deadly,   tightened   its   grip   upon   the 
wilderness,  sapping  the  life  of  the  three 
struggling  human  derelicts-for  derelicts  Shad 
Trowbridge  felt  himself  and  his  two  compan- 
ions to  b^as  they  fought  their  way,  now 
hopefully,  now  despondently,  but  =ver  with 
slower  pace,  as  strength  ebbed,  tovard  the 
precious  cache  on  the  shores  of  the  Great 
Lake;  and  with  the  slower  progress  that  grow- 
ing weakness  demanded,  it  was  quickly  found 
necessary  to  reduce  by  half  th    already  mi- 
nute portion  of  dried  caribou  meat  allotted 
to  each. 

Everything  in  the  world  save  only  them- 
selves seemed  to  have  been  frozen  into  ob- 
livion.    There  was  no  sound,  save  the  mo- 
notonous swish,  swish  of  their  own  snowshoes 
to  disturb  the  silences  silence  otherwise  as 


r^i 


240 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


absolute  and  vast  as  the  uttermost  depths  of 
the  grave. 

Storms  overtook  them,  but  they  mercifully 
were  storms  of  short  duration,  and  seldom  in- 
terfered with  hours  of  travel.  Staggering, 
but  ever  struggling  forward,  they  forced  their 
way  painfully  on  and  on,  over  pitiless  wind- 
swept ridges,  across  life-sapping,  desolate  bar- 
rens, through  scarcely  less  inhospitable  for- 
ests. Kxerting  their  waning  strength  to  its 
utmost,  they  never  stopped,  save  when  ex- 
hausted nature  compelled  them  to  halt  for 
brief  intervals  of  sleep  and  rest,  to  recuperate 
their  wasted  energies. 

Shad  Trowbridge  came  finally  to  wonder 
vaguely  if  he  were  not  dead,  this  another  ex- 
istence, and  he  doomed  to  keep  going  and  go- 
ing through  endless  ages  over  endless  reaches 
of  snow.  To  his  numbed  intellect  it  seemed 
that  he  had  been  thus  going  for  months  and 
years. 

Like  a  vague,  pleasant  dream  of  something 
experienced  in  a  previous  life,  he  remembered 
Bob  and  the  tilts.  Wolf  Bight  farther  back,  and 
the  dear  old  college.  What  would  the  fellows 
say  now,  if  they  were  to  see  him — the  fel- 


( - 


THE  RIFLED  CACHE  Ul 

lows  who  had  known  him  in  that  former,  hap- 
pier lifef 

At  other  times  he  fancied  he  heard  Ungava 
Bob  and  the  others  hallooing  in  the  distance, 
and  he  would  answer  in  glad,  expectant  shouts. 
But  there  never  came  a  reply. 

The  first  time  this  occurred  Manikawan 
turned  and  looked  inquiringly  at  him,  through 
eyes  sunk  deep  in  their  sockets.  When  it  was 
repeated  later-and  he  came  to  hear  the  voices 
and  to  shout  to  the  empty  snow  wastes  at 
least  once  every  day-she  would  step  to 
his  side,  solicitously  touch  his  shoulder  and 
say: 

"  The  friend  of  White  Brother  of  the  Snow 
hears  the  voices  of  the  Matchi  Manitu  of  Hun- 
ger. Let  him  close  his  ears  and  be  deaf,  for 
the  Matchi  Manitu  is  mocking  him." 

Mookoomahn's  face  was  not  pleasant  to  see 
now;  it  was  horrible-the  dark  skin  was  drawn 
tight  over  the  high  cheek  bones,  the  lips 
shrunken  to  the  gums,  and  the  eyes  fallen  1  - 
back  into  the  skull.  His  face  resembled  more 
than  anything  else  the  smoked  and  dried  skull 
of  a  mummy. 

Shad  laughed  sometimes  when  he  looked  at 


M» 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


■y; 


r. 


Mookoomahn'g  ghastly  face,  framed  in  a  mass 
of  long,  straggling  black  hair;  at  other  times 
he  was  overcome  with  a  heart-rending  pity  for 
Mookoomahn  that  brought  tears  to  his  eyes. 
But  tears  froze,  and  were  annoying  and 
painful. 

Manikawan,  too,  had  changed  woefully. 
The  lean,  gaunt  figure  stalking  along  uncom- 
plainingly with  Shad  and  Mookoomahn  had 
small  resemblance  to  the  beautiful,  command- 
ing Manikawan  that  bade  Bob  and  Shad  be 
patient  in  their  imprisonment  on  the  island 
until  she  returned  to  relieve  them ;  or  the  glow- 
ing, happy  Manikawan  that  accompanied  Shad 
and  the  others  to  the  river  tilt  after  she  had 
accomplished  the  rescue.  Though  there  still 
burned  within  her  an  unquenchable  fire  of  en- 
ergy, and  she  never  lagged  on  the  trail,  she 
was  no  longer  the  Manikawan  of  old. 

In  spite  of  all  the  hardships  and  all  the 
pain,  and  slowly  starving  as  she  was,  she 
never  ceased  her  attention  to  Shad,  and  she 
never  once  lost  her  patience  with  him. 

When  Shad  laughed  hysterically  and  deri- 
sively at  his  fate,  as  he  did  sometimes, 
Manikawan  would  step  to  his  side,  touch  him 


THE  RIFLED  CACHE  S43 

lightly  with  her  hand,  and  say  in  the  same 
old  voice,  lower  than  of  old,  but  even  more 
musical  and  sweet: 

"The  friend  of  White  Brother  of  the  Snow 
is  brave.  He  is  not  a  coward.  He  is  not 
afraid  to  die." 

This  always  had  a  magical,  soothing  effect 
upon  Shad.  Though  he  never  learned  to  in- 
terpret her  language,  the  touch  of  the  hand, 
the  human  note  of  encouragement  in  her  voice,' 
the  Ught  in  the  eyes  that  looked  into  his,  never 
failed  to  recall  him  to  his  manhood  and  to 
himself,  and  to  the  remembrance  of  his  vow 
that  as  a  white  man  he  must  by  mere  force  of 
will  prove  his  superiority. 

All  record  of  time  was  lost.  But  the  days 
were  visibly  lengthening  with  each  sunrise 
and  sunset,  and  when  the  wind  did  not  blow 
to  freeze  them,  and  the  snow  did  not  drift 
to  blind  them,  the  sunshine  gave  forth  a  hint 
—just  a  hint— of  warmth. 

One  day  the  dead  silence  was  suddenly  star- 
tled by  the  long-drawn-out  howl  of  a  wolf.  It 
was  a  blood-curdling  and  almost  human  cry 
and  Shad  likened  it  to  the  agonised  cry  of  a 
lost  soul  in  the  depths  of  eternal  torment 


II 


«4*         THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

Again  and  again  it  sounded,  then  suddenly 
ceasing,  Shad  discovered  the  animal  itself  trot- 
ting leisurely  after  them  far  in  the  rear,  and 
a  feeling  of  fellowship— of  pity— welled  up 
in  his  bosom. 

But  when  he  discovered  the  creature  still 
following  them  the  next  day,  now  so  near  that 
he  could  see  its  lolling  red  tongue,  its  lean 
sides,  and  ugly  fangs,  he  became  possessed 
with  a  feeling  of  revulsion  toward  it.  Then 
he  fancied  it  the  embodied  Spirit  of  Starva- 
tion stalking  them  and  awaiting  an  opportu- 
nity to  destroy  them.  This  fancy  gave  birth 
to  a  consuming,  intense  hatred  of  the  thing. 
Finally  it  attained  the  proportions  of  a  mock- 
ing, tantalising  demon. 

Cunningly  he  watched  for  a  moment  when  it 
was  well  within  rifle  shot,  and  drawing  his 
rifle  from  the  toboggan  he  dropped  upon  a 
knee,  aimed  carefully,  and  pulled  the  trigger. 
The  frost-clogged  firing  pin  did  not  respond, 
and  the  wolf,  seeming  to  understand  its  peri!, 
slunk  away  unharmed. 

Shad  had  seen  it  plainly — its  repulsive  gray 
sides  so  lank  that  they  seemed  almost  to  meet, 
its  red,  hungry  tongue  lolling  from  its  ugly 


iddenljr 
slf  trot- 
ar,  and 
iled  up 

re  Btill 
ar  that 
ta  lean 
isessed 
Then 
Starva- 
)portu- 
e  birth 

thing. 

mock- 

rhen  it 
Dg  his 
ipon  a 
rigger, 
spond, 
I  peril, 

e  gray 
I  meet, 
3  ugly 


4|! 


W- 

V  i^^_^^B^K       \      m^  7  jJ^^I 

j 

i 

1 

THE  RIFLED  CACHE  us 

month  itg  cruel  white  fangg,  and  its  molevo- 
lent.  Kleaming  eyes.  His  hatred  for  the  crea- 
tnre  became  an  obseggion,  for  it  appeared 
aga-T.  presently,  persistently  following,  but 
D.v   kcvping  ,it  a  respectful  distance. 

'^n  the  tlurJ  J.,y,  however,  the  wolf  had  for- 
Kotton  .U   r,.,n,,„rary  timidity,  and  with  in- 
■  roasod   l>,„dnos.s   stole  steadily   upon   their 
•letls.     W  itl,  a  patience  nuite  foreign  to  him 
^li.K.  wQ,ted,  glaucing  behind  constantly,  but 
making  .10  .lo.nonstration  until  the  wolf,  ap- 
pa-  e,  ,iy  satisfied  that  it  had  little  to  fear  from 
the  hunger-stricken  plodders,  trot' .a  holdly 
up  and  took  a  place  behind  tht-rr  s-o  , .   ,  ,.,at 
If  the  rifle  failed  at  the  first  f.^.^,  tl.n  v.  ,*,ld 
be  opportunity  for  a  second  a;te.;n,t  !„  loip  .  9 
beast  could  pass  out  of  range 

Shad  again  stopped,  and  sei.  ;n:r  c  ,.  ,  »ic. 
discovered  that  the  beast  had  also  sicr^.  ,i  and 
«tood  glaring  at  him,  mocking  and  unafraid. 
As  though,  knowing  their  weakness,  it  had  lost 
respect  for  their  power  to  injure  it. 

A  mighty  rage  took  possession  of  Shad.  He 
tell  to  his  knee  again,  aimed  carefully,  and 
agam  pulled  the  trigger.  This  time  there  was 
a  report,  and  in  an  insane  frenzy  of  delight  he 


je46 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


beheld  the  carcass  of  the  tantalising  creature 
stretched  upon  the  snow. 

Mookoomahn  and  Manikawan  Lad  halted, 
and  stood  in  breathless  silence  watching  the 
result  of  Shad's  shot.  Now  with  an  exclama- 
tion of  pleasure  from  Mookoomahn  the  two 
rushed  forward,  knives  in  hand,  and  in  an  in- 
credibly short  time  the  carcass  of  the  wolf 
was  quartered,  a  fire  lighted,  and  some  of  the 
meat  cooking. 

It  was  a  lean,  scrawny  wolf,  and  the  meat 
tough  and  stringy,  but  to  the  famished  travel- 
lers it  meant  life,  and  Shad  thought  the  half- 
cooked  piece  which  Mookoomahn  doled  to  bim 
as  his  share  the  sweetest  morsel  he  had  ever 
eaten. 

The  wolf  meat,  carefully  husbanded,  sup- 
plied food  until  one  morning  Mookoomahn  by 
a  series  of  signs  conveyed  the  information  to 
Shad  that  they  were  within  one  day's  march 
of  the  cache.  Then  they  ate  the  last  of  it, 
that  it  might  give  them  strength  for  the  final 
effort. 

It  was  evening,  but  not  yet  dark,  when  fa- 
miliar landmarks  told  Shad  that  they  were 
Hearing  the  goal,  and  a  little  later  they  halted 


847 


THE  RIFLED  CACHE 

where  the  poles  of  Sishetakushin's  lodge  stood 
-Jhe  edge  of  the  woods  above  the   Je 

M  ft"'  ""'*'  ^''"^  ""'^  Mookoo„,ahn 
njshed  to  the  cache,  but  suddenly  stopped 
aghast  a  ,  stupefied.  The  cache'hIdTeen 
nfled  of  Its  contents,  and  lying  near  it   hai? 


XXII 


MANIKAWAN'S  SACRIFICE 


AN  examination  of  the  surroundings  made 
^  it  plain  that  a  band  of  eastern  Moun- 
taineer or  Mingen  Indians,  in  a  starv- 
ing condition,  had  visited  the  place;  that  one 
of  them,  already  too  far  exhausted  to  be  re- 
vived, had  died;  that  the  others,  taking  the 
food,  had  left  his  body  uncared  for  and  fled. 

The  disappointment  was  quite  beyond  ex- 
pression. Had  they  been  in  j.';od  physical  con- 
dition, a  short  three  days'  travel  would  now 
have  carried  them  to  the  river  tilt  and  safety. 
In  their  present  weakened  ard  starved  condi- 
tion at  least  twice  that  time  would  be  con- 
sumed in  the  journey,  and  no  food  remained 
to  help  them  on  their  way. 

In  deep  depression  Shad  assisted  Manika- 
wan  to  stretch  the  deerskin  covering  upon  the 
lodge,  while  Mookoomahn  gathered  wood  for 
the  fire.  Clumsy  with  weakness,  dizzy  with 
disappointment,  Shad  reached  to  spread  the 
348 


MANIKAWAN'S  SACRIFICE  249 

skin,  his  snowshoes  became  entangled,  he 
stumbled  and  fell.  When  he  attempted  to' rise 
he  discovered  to  his  dismay  that  he  had 
wrenched  a  knee,  and  when  he  attempted  to 
walk  he  was  scarcely  able  to  hobble  into  the 
lodge. 

The  last  bare  chance  of  life  fled,  the  last 
thread  of  flickering  hope  broken,  Shad  sank 
down,  little  caring  for  the  pain,  numb  with 
a  certainty  of  quickly  impending  death.  He 
could  not  keep  the  pace  of  the  Indians.  He 
could  not  travel  at  all,  and  he  could  neither 
ask  nor  expect  that  they  do  otherwise  than 
proceed  as  usual  after  a  period  of  rest,  and 
leave  him  to  his  fate. 

Very  early  in  the  morning  Shad  heard  a 
movement  in  the  lodge,  and  realised  that  Moo- 
koomahn  and  Manikawan  were  engaged  in  low 
and  earnest  conversation.  This  meant,  he  was 
sure,  that  they  were  going. 

He  vaguely  wondered  whether  they  would 
take  the  lodge  with  them  and  leave  him  to  die 
the  more  quickly  in  the  intense  cold  of  the 
open,  or  whether  they  would  leave  it  behind 
them  as  a  weight  now  too  great  to  be  hauled 
farther  upon  their  toboggan. 


-.a^iifsmamm^isusmefsr^ssim 


*:'! 


I     ?. 


S60         THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

He  did  not  care  much.  He  was  resigned  to 
his  fate.  He  suffered  now  no  pain  of  body, 
save  an  occasional  twitch  of  the  knee  when  he 
moved.  The  hunger  pain  had  gone.  It  would 
be  sweet  and  restful,  after  all,  to  lie  there  and 
die  peacefully.  It  would  end  the  struggle  for 
existence.  There  would  be  no  more  weary 
plodding  over  boundless  snow  wastes.  The 
end  of  hope  was  the  end  of  trouble  and 
pain. 

With  his  acceptance  of  the  inevitable,  and 
resignation  to  his  fate,  a  great  lassitude  fell 
upon  him.  He  was  overcome  with  a  drowsi- 
ness, and  as  the  swish,  swish  of  retreating 
snowshoes  fell  upon  his  ears  he  dropped  into 
a  heavy  sleep. 

It  must  have  been  hours  later  when  Shad 
opened  his  eyes  to  behold  sitting  opposite  him, 
across  the  fire,  Manikawan.  She  smiled  when 
she  saw  that  he  was  awake,  and  he  thought  how 
thin  and  worn  she  looked,  a  mere  shadow  of 
the  Manikawan  he  had  first  known. 

Then  there  dawned  upon  his  slowly-waking 
brain  a  realisation  of  the  situation.  She  had 
resigned  her  chance  of  life  to  remain  with  him. 
He  could  not  permit  this.    It  was  a  useless 


MANIKA WAN'S  SACRIFICE  351 

waste  of  life.  There  was  still  hope  that  she 
might  reach  the  tilts  and  safety.  By  remain 
>ng  with  him  she  was  deliberately  rejecting 
a  possible  opportunity  to  preserve  herself 
Much  perturbed  by  this  discovery,  Shad  sat 
up. 

"  Mookoomahn?  ••  he  asked,  pointing  to- 
ward the  south. 

"  Mookoomahn,"  she  answered,  pointing  in 
the  same  direction.  "  Manikawan,"  pointing 
at  the  fire,  to  indicate  that  Mookoomahn  had 
gone  but  she  had  remained. 

He  protested  by  signs  that  she  should  fol- 
low Mookoomahn.    He  passed  around  the  fire 
to  where  she  sat,  and  grasped  her  arm  in  his 
bony  fingers,  in  an  attempt  to  compel  her  to 
do  so;  but  she  stubbornly  shook  her  head,  and 
forced  to  submit,  he  resumed  his  seat.    Both 
sorry  and  glad  that  he  should  not  be  left  alone 
he  reached  over  and  pressed  her  hand  as  an 
mdication  of  his  appreciation   of  her  self- 
sacrifice. 

Then  she  dipped  from  a  kettle  by  the  fire  a 
cup  of  liquid,  which  she  handed  him.  He 
sipped  it,  and,  discovering  that  it  was  a  weak 
broth,  drank  it.    He  looked  at  her  inquiringly. 


S52 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


:  i  ,,t 


Turniug  again  to  the  pail,  she  drew  forth 
half  a  boiled  ptarmigan,  which  she  passed 
him. 

"  Let  the  friend  of  White  Brother  of  the 
Snow  eat.  It  is  little,  and  it  will  not  drive 
away  the  Spirit  of  Hmiger,  but  it  will  help  to 
keep  away  the  evil  Spirit  of  Starvation  until 
White  Brother  of  the  Snow  brings  food  to  his 
friend." 

He  accepted  it  and  ate,  not  ravenously,  for 
his  hunger  now  was  not  consuming,  but  with 
delicious  relish.  Manikawan  did  not  eat,  but 
he  presumed  that  she  had  already  had  a  like 
portion. 

Shad  was  able  to  hobble,  though  with  con- 
siderable pain,  in  and  out  of  the  lodge,  and 
to  assist  in  getting  wood  for  the  fire,  and  so 
far  as  she  would  permit  him  to  do  so  he  re- 
lieved her  of  the  task. 

The  following  morning  and  for  four  suc- 
cessive mornings  the  cup  of  broth  and  the  por- 
tion of  ptarmigan  awaited  him  when  he  awoke. 
It  was  evident  Manikawan  had  killed  them 
with  bow  and  arrow. 

He  never  saw  her  eat.  It  was  quite  natural 
that  she  should  have  done  so  before  he  awoke 


MANIKAWAN'S  SACRIFICE  253 

Of  mornings,  for  he  made  no  attempt  at  early 
rising.  ' 

But  he  noted  with  alarm  that  Manikawan 
was  daily  growing  weaker.  She  staggered 
woefully  at  times  when  she  walked,  like  one 
mtoxicated.  She  was  weaker  than  he,  but  this 
he  ascnbed  to  his  stronger  mentality 

By  sheer  force  of  will  he  put  aside  the  in- 
sistent weakness,  which  he  knew  would  get  the 
better  of  him  were  he  to  resign  himself  to  it. 
By  the  same  force  of  will  he  injected  into  his 
being  a  degree  of  physical  energy.  But  he 
was  a  white  man,  she  only  an  Indian,  and  this 
could  not  be  expected  of  her. 

Then  there  came  a  day  when  he  awoke  to 
find  her  gone,  and  no  broth  or  ptarmigan 
awaiting  him.  Later  she  tottered  into  the 
lodge,  and  empty-handed  laid  her  bow  and  ar  - 
row  aside. 

The  next  morning  she  was  lying  prone,  and 
the  fire  was  nearly  out,  for  the  wood  was 
gone. 

"  Poor  girl,"  he  said,  "  she  is  tired  and 

has  overslept;  "and  stealthily,  that  he  might 
not  disturb  her,  he  stole  out  for  the  needed 


m 

in 


i;. 


SS4 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


She  was  awake  when  he  returned,  and  she 
tried  to  rise,  but  fell  helplessly  back  upon  her 
bed  of  boughs. 

"  Manikawan  is  weak  like  a  little  child," 
she  said,  in  a  low,  uncertain  voice.  "  But 
White  Brother  of  the  Snow  will  soon  come. 
The  suns  are  rising  and  setting.  He  will  soon 
come.  Let  the  friend  of  White  Brotliir  of  the 
Snow  have  courage." 

Shad  brewed  her  some  strong  tea— a  little 
still  remaining.  She  drank  it,  and  the  hot 
stimulant  presently  gave  her  renewed 
strength. 

But  Shad  was  not  deceived.  Manikawan 's 
words  had  sounded  to  him  a  prophecy  of  the 
impending  end.  Her  voice  and  her  rapidly 
failing  strength  told  him  that  the  Spirit  of 
Hunger— the  Gaunt  Gray  Wolf— was  conquer- 
ing; thai  the  spirit  most  dreaded  of  all  the 
spirits,  Death,  stood  at  last  at  the  portal  of 
the  lodge,  waiting  to  enter. 


1  her 


ild," 
But 
some, 
soon 
f  the 

little 
!  hot 
ewed 

ran's 
f  the 
pidly 
■it  of 
quer- 
11  the 
:al  of 


XXIII 

TUMBLED  AIR  CASTLES 

"l^T^H  the  strengthening  cold  that  came 
y  y  with  January  and  continued  into 
February,  the  animals  ceased  to  ven- 
ture far  from  their  lairs  in  search  of  food,  and 
the  harvest  of  the  trails  was  therefore  light. 
With  the  disappearance  of  rabbits,  the  fox 
and  lynx  had  also  disappeared.  The  rabbit 
18  the  chief  prey  of  these  animals  during 
the  tight  midwinter  months,  and  as  the  wolf 
follows  the  caribou,  so  the  fox  follows  the 
rabbit. 

With  the  going  of  the  fox  the  field  of  opera- 
tions was  not  only  narrowed,  but  the  work  vnsi 
robbed  of  much  of  its  zest.  When  foxe.  ;ri. 
fairly  numerous  the  trapper  is  always  bur  -ed 
with  the  hope  that  a  black  or  silver  fox  Al- 
most valuable  of  the  fur-bearing  animals, 'may 
wander  into  his  traps;  and  this  hope  renders 
less  irksome  the  weary  tramping  of  the  trails 

SS5 


as6 


THE  GAUNT  GHAY  WOLF 


hi 


at  seasons  when  the  returns  might  otherwise 
seem  too  small  a  recompense  for  the  hardships 
and  isolation  suffered. 

The  two  preceding  years  had  yielded  rich 
harvests  to  Dick  Blake,  and  had  more  than 
fulfilled  hia  modest  expectations.  He  was, 
therefore,  though  certainly  disappointed,  far 
from  discouraged  with  the  present  outlook, 
and  very  cheerfully  accepted  the  few  marten 
and  mink  pelts  that  fell  to  his  lot  as  a  half  loaf 
by  no  means  to  be  despised. 

While  Ungava  Bob  had  looked  forward  to 
a  successful  winter's  trapping,  his  chief  ob- 
ject in  coming  so  far  into  the  wilderness  had 
been  the  establishment  of  his  new  trails  as  a 
basis  for  future  trading  operations ;  and  more 
particularly,  therefore,  with  a  view  to  the  fu- 
ture than  to  the  immediate  present.  Neither 
was  he,  for  this  reason,  in  any  wise  discour- 
aged. His  youthful  mind,  engaged  in  plan- 
ning the  castles  he  was  to  build  to-morrow, 
had  no  room  for  the  disappointments  of 
to-day. 

Sishetakushin  had  given  Bob  the  assurance 
that  the  Nascaupees  would  bring  him  their 
furs  to  barter.    He  was  satisfied,  also,  that  he 


h      I 


TUMBLED  AIR  CASTLES  xn 

could  aecure  a  large  share  of  the  trade  of  the 

Easern,  or  Bay.  Mountaineer  Indians,  for  he 
would  pay  a  fair  and  reasonable  price  for  their 

ai;:' f  r  r'  •'"•^■"^  '^-'^'-  »^"«  - 

vantage  of  trading  with  him.    And  he  would 

have  another  advantage  over  the  coast  rj^ 
era:  he  would  establish  a  trading  station! 

the"L"l°'*'^'^'''^~«'-t''«-ds; 
of  the  Indian  hunting  country 

tuf/v'^r..'"  ^''  '"'"'"«  '"«°  '»«  little  for- 
unehis  father  had.  as  far  back  as  Bob  could 
n.e„.berheon  struggling  under  a  load^ 
debt     At  times  the  family  had  been  plunged 
into  the  very  uttermost  depths  of  po^-erty  •  and 
even  now  a  sickening  dread  stole  upon  B  b 
as  he  recalled  some  of  the  winters  through 
which  they  had  passed  when  the  factor  at  the 
post  had  refused  them  further  credit,  and   he 
our  b  rrel  at  home  was  empty,  and  they  co    d 
arcely  have  survived  had  it  not  been  for  the 
bounty  of  Douglas  Campbell. 

This  was  the  condition  still  with  many  of  the 
families  of  the  Bav     ti,  , 

debt  tn  f),    n         ^'         ^  "^"^  "I'^ays  in 
debt  to  the  Company  for  advances  of  provi- 
ons,  and  there  was  no  hope  that  theyUli 
ever  emerge  from  the  deplorable  condition 


MIOOCOTY   nSCHIITKm   TEST   CHA>T 

(ANSI  ond  ISO  TEST  CHART  No,  2) 


!f  IE 

11°     112.0 


II  I.I 

il.25 


^  APPLIED  ItVMGE     In 

^BT  T653   EqsI   Mam   Street 

ST.S  RoctiBJler,    Ne>   Vo'k         14609        USA 

^B  (716)   4S2  -  aJOO  -  Phone 

^=  (716)   266-  5989  -  Ta, 


S58 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


It  was  the  policy  of  the  Company  that  they 
should  not. 

In  accepting  credit  froia  the  Company,  the 
trapper  placed  himself  under  obligation  to 
deliver  to  the  Company  every  product  of  his 
labours  until  the  debt  was  discharged.  The 
Company  allowed  the  trapper  in  return  for 
his  pelts  such  an  amount  as  it  saw  fit.  He 
had  no  word  in  the  matter,  and  of  necessity 
was  compelled  to  accept  the  Company's  valua- 
tion of  his  furs,  which  valuation  the  Company 
took  good  care  to  place  so  low  as  to  obviate 
any  probability  of  his  release  from  debt.  At 
a  reasonable  valuation  of  their  furs,  there  was 
seldom  a  year  that  most,  if  not  all,  the  Bay 
trappers  might  not  have  been  freed  from  their 
serfdom. 

Thus  when  a  trapper  died  his  only  in- 
heritance to  his  children  was  a  burden  of 
debt,  which  sometimes  passed  down  from  gen- 
eration to  generation;  for  the  son  who  re- 
fused to  assume  his  father's  debt  was  denied 
credit  or  consideration  at  the  Company's 
stores. 

The  Grays,  as  we  have  stated,  had  felt  the 
heavy  hand  of  this  inquisitional  system.    Now 


TUMBLED  AIR  CASTLES  ,,, 

tnat   they  were  free    RnK'= 
poured  out  to  his  .  Jhfot    rr^''  "" 
cretly  planning  how  whlTA  ™'  '"■ 

^en.i,htaisoU;:ti^trr^-^-' 

nation  to  the  CoC;  ''"'"  ''•°"'  '"-  °'"i- 

Then  he  would  advance  tliem  fi,. 
provisions  and  supplies  tV^         ^^'=^^^^ry 
they  returned  froSeir!  T'^''  ^^^'^  -«' 

He  would  buy  C  pel  a'  !  I-?'^'^ '^"°*- 
he  eould  afford  with  «  *^^  ^  P"*^®  as 

Price  wouldJwTys  beTt"'^"''-    ^'^'^ 
often  four  or  fiZ  tL      1     "'^  ''°"'''^'  ^^^ 

pa..wasar:^n:'r^^^^^^^^^- 

happy  as  when  doing  sot  hin^t'"?  "  " 
other  person  happy  And  R  /  '"''''  '"''' 
cause  he  believed  L         .  ^^  "'''  ^^^^^  ^^- 

fortable  living  himself  T  ,  "^  ^  '='""- 
Bible  for  his  neighC;  o  "T  "''^  ''  P^^' 
Mving,  also.  '°  ""^^^  «  comfortable 


•  i 


260  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

It  never  occurred  to  him  that  failure  was 
possible,  or  that,  with  the  amount  of  capital 
which  he  believed  was  still  at  his  disposal,  the 
plan  was  unpractical.  Young,  highly  opti- 
mistic, and  somewhat  visionary,  his  dreams  as- 
sumed the  status  of  reality. 

Bob's  mind  was  thus  pleasantly  occupied 
when  at  the  end  of  the  first  week  in  February 
he  returned  to  the  river  tilt  to  find  Ed  Mathe- 
son  and  Bill  Campbell  back  from  Eskimo  Bay, 
and  Dick  Blake,  just  in  from  his  trail,  draw- 
ing off  his  frost-encrusted  adicky. 

"An'  there's  Bob,  now!  "  exclaimed  Ed,  as 
Bob  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"  'Tis  grand,  now,  t'  see  you  back,"  said 
Bob,  his  face  beaming  welcome  as  he  shook 
the  hands  of  the  returned  travellers.  *'  Dick 
an'  me's  been  missin'  you  wonderful." 

"  'Twere  grand,  now,  t'  see  th'  tilt  when 
Bill  an'  me  comes  in  last  evenin'.  'Twere 
th'  hardest  pull  up  from  th'  Bay  with 
our  loads  we  ever  has,  an'  we  was  tired 
enough  t'  drop  when  we  gets  here.  Where's 
Shadt  " 

"  Wi'  th'  Injuns  yet,  an'  I'm  worryin' 
about  he  not  comin'  back.   They  must  ha'  gone 


TUMBLED  AIR  CASTLES  261 

a  long  ways  down  north  lookin'  for  deer  or 
they'd  been  back  before  this.  How'd  you  iind 
th' folks  at  th' Bay,  Ed?  " 

"Fine-all  of  nn  fine.  Your  mother's 
wan  ,„'  wonderful  bad  f  see  you.  But  when 
I  tells  she  you'm  all  right,  she  stops  worryin' 
I  were  forgettin'  V  say  anything  about  th> 
trouble  wi'  th'  Mingens,  though;  "  and  Ed 
grinned. 

"Forgettin-  a  purpose?"  asked  Bob 
smihng.  ' 

"Maybe  so,"  admitted  Ed.  "  What's  past 
don  t  do  nobody  no  good  t'  know  when  they's 
nothm'  for  un  t'  make  right.  'Twouldn't  ha' 
helped  no^  for  she  t'  know  about  th'  Min- 
gens, so  I  ^ust  naturally  forgets  un  " 

J!:'""  t^^  "'  *''"*■  ^'"'^'''''^  '«'  worried 
an  been  thinkzn'  all  sorts  o'  things  happenin' 
what  never  would  happen,  "  and,  greatly  re- 
heved.  Bob  asked,  "  An'  when'd  you  make  th' 

"'Twere  just  New  Year.  Bill  an'  me 
cruises  along  fast,  bein'  light,  an'  takin'  short 
sleeps-  -Twere  night  when  we  gets  t'  Wolf 
Bight,  an'  I  says  t'  Bill,  says  I:  '  -Tis  near 
midmght,    an'    likewise    f    th'    New    Year 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


They'll  be  sleepin',  an'  le's'a  wake  ua  up 
shootin'  th'  New  Year  in  like  all  creation.' 

"  Gettin'  alongside  th*  winder,  we  lets  go 
till  our  rifles  is  empty,  and  then  rushiu'  in  th' 
door  yells,  '  Happy  New  Year! '  They  was 
awake,  all  right,  wonderin'  what  in  time  an' 
creation  were  turned  loose  on  un,  we  yellin' 
like  a  passel  o'  Injuns.  They  was  glad  t' 
eee  us. 

"  Bill  goes  home  t'  Kenemish  with  daylight, 
an'  your  father  takes  me  t'  th'  post  wi'  dogs 
an'  komatik,  your  mother  goin'  along,  an'  I 
gets  home  th'  evenin'." 

"  Were  they  goin'  right  back  home?  " 

"  No,  they  'bides  t'  th'  post  with  Tom 
Black's  folks  till  th'  end  o'  th'  week,  an'  Bes- 
sie goes  back  with  un  t'  be  company  with  your 
mother.  Oh,  I  were  forgettin'l  Here's  some- 
thin'  your  mother  were  sendin';  "  and  Ed 
reached  under  the  bunk  and  drew  forth  a 
package. 

Upon  opening  the  package  Bob  discovered 
a  quantity  of  sweet  cakes,  a  loaf  of  plum  bread, 
and  a  letter.  He  passed  the  cakes  around,  then 
drawing  up  to  the  candle  proceeded  at  once 
to  read  hungrily  his  mother's  letter. 


I- 


TUMBLED  AIR  CASTLES  263 

It  was  a  message  of  love  and  encourage- 
ment, closing  with  the  news  of  the  bank  fail- 
ure and  consequent  loss  of  the  little  fortune 
with  which  he  had  planned  to  do  so  many 
things.  Presently  looking  up  he  said,  in  a 
snaking  voice : 

"  Why-Ed-Mother's    sayin'    th'   bank's 
broke-an'  all  our  money's  gone  " 

''  Aye,"  admitted  Ed,  his  voice  sympathetic 
and  sorrowful.  ■'  lis  broke,  lad-I  were 
hopm-  she  wouldn't  write  you  that,  an'  you 
wouldn't  know  till  you  gets  home.  But  don't 
worry  about  un,  now,  lad.  'Twon  't  do  no  good 
If  you  hadn't  known  about  un  now,  yon 
wouldn't  be  worryin'  about  un.  An'  now  you 
knows,  'twon't  help  none." 

"I  suppose  you're  right,  Ed.    But  'twill  be 
hard  not  t'  worry.    I  were  plannin'  so  " 

"  '1^""'^  so  bad  as  t'  Lave  some  o'  your 
folks  die,  now.  An'  I  been  noticin'  all  my  life 
that  sometimes  things  happens  V  me  I  thinks 
Js  most  more'n  I  can  stand,  an'  I  feels  like 
pvm  up.  Then  somethin '  comes  along  that's 
better'n  anything  I  ever  thought  o'  gettin'. 
An  then  when  I  thinks  un  out,  I  finds  th'  good 
couldn't  ha'  come  without  me  havin'  th'  trou 


864         THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

ble  first.  So  don't  get  feelin'  too  bad  about 
un,  Bob.  This  may  be  just  openin'  tb'  way  for 
some  wonderful  good  luck  better 'n  all  th' 
money  you  loses,"  soothed  Ed. 

There  was  a  postscript  which  Bob  had  over- 
looked. Now  in  folding  the  letter  his  eye 
caught  it  and  he  read  it— a  brief  line  added  by 
Bessie,  telling  him  not  to  think  too  much  about 
his  loss,  for  she  was  sure  it  would  all  be  well  in 
the  end,  and  not  to  forget  it  was  the  Lord's 
will  or  it  could  not  have  happened,  add- 
ing, "  Remember,  Bob,  the  Lord  is  always 
near  you." 

Nevertheless,  Bob  was  very  quiet  at  sup- 
per. He  could  not  forget  his  tumbled  air  cas- 
tles. He  could  not  forget  the  fact  that  the 
returns  from  the  present  yefr's  trapping 
would  be  insufficient  to  buy  the  next  year's 

outfit. 

"  They  was  a  band  o'  Injuns  comes  t'  th' 
post  just  before  I  leaves,  pretty  nigh  on  their 
last  legs,"  remarked  Ed,  when  they  had  fin- 
ished eating  and  he  had  lighted  his  pipe. 
"  TJ  Dy  was  about  as  nigh  starved  as  any  pas- 
sel  o'  men  I  ever  seen,  an'  if  they'd  been 
starved  much  more  they'd  been  dead.    I  hears 


TUMBLED  AIR  CASTLES  865 

some  o'  th'  band  did  die  before  these  gets 
out."  * 

"  Who  were  they?  "  a8l<ed  Bob. 

"  Mountaineers,"  answered  Ed.  "  Th^/ 
was  back  in  th'  country  huntin',  but  don't  find 
th'  deer.  They's  camped  down  f  th'  post 
now. ' ' 

"Did  you  hear  where 'bouts  thoy  was 
huntin'f  "  inquired  Dick.  "  In  th'  nu'th'ard 
or  s'uth'ard?  " 

"  They  all  comes  from  th'  nu'th'ard  and 
west'ard  o'  th'  post,"  said  Ed.  "  They  tells 
me  they  finds  it  th'  worst  year  for  fur  an' 
game  up  that  way  they  ever  seen,  an'  I  tells 
un  'tis  th'  same  here." 

"  I  wonders,  now,  how  Shad  an'  th'  Injuns 
he's  with  is  makin'  out.  They'll  be  wonderful 
bad  oflf,  an'  they  don't  run  on  th'  deer,"  sug- 
gested Dick. 

"  They'll  be  likely  t'  find  un  up  where  they 
finds  un  when  I  was  with  un,"  reassured  Bob, 
"  but  'tis  a  long  cruise  there  an'  back." 

Bob's  loss  was  a  keen  disappointment  to 
him.  For  several  days  it  robbed  him  of  ambi- 
tion, and  he  tramped  along  the  trails  and  at- 
tended to  his  traps  dully  and  methodically, 


S66 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


with  a  heavy  heart.  Thon  he  began  to  say  to 
himself: 

"  'Tis  th'  Lard's  way.  'T weren't  right  for 
me  1,0  go  tradin'  or  t'  have  th'  money,  an'  th' 
Lord  knowin'  it  takes  th'  money  r.way." 

7.  his  thought,  with  his  natural  buoyancy  of 
temperament,  restored  again  to  a  large  extent 
his  interest  and  ambition  in  his  work;  and 
when  he  remembered  that  he  was,  after  all,  the 
owner  of  two  unencumbered  trails,  with  all 
their  traps,  he  almost  forgot  his  disappoint- 
ment— but  not  altogether;  that  was  impossi- 
ble. 

With  the  end  of  February  ptarmigans  be- 
gan tc  reappear  among  the  willows  along  the 
river  bank.  They  were  welcomed  by  the  trap- 
pers, for  they  supplied  a  much  needed  variety 
to  the  diet.  They  offered  hope,  too,  that  the 
period  of  famine  was  Hearing  its  end. 

Ed  Matheson's  report  of  the  condition  of 
the  Indians  appearing  at  the  Eskimo  Bay  post 
gave  the  men  food  for  thought.  When  they 
gathered  again  at  the  rivor  tilt  two  weeks 
later,  the  chief  subject  of  conversation  was 
Shad's  continued  absence,  and  many  specula- 
tions were  put  forth  as  to  the  probable  move- 


TUMBLED  AIR  CASTLES  867 

rnents   of   Shad   and    their   Indian   friends. 

Uhefher  or  rot  they  were  likely  to  find  cari- 
bou whore  they  would  go  and  what  they  would 
be  likely  to  do  should  they  fail,  were  questions 
^bich  they  discussed  at  length.  And  they  did 
not  conceal  from  one  another  the  fact  that  they 
were  deeply  concerned  for  Shad's  safety. 

When  the  trappers  gathered  agai/i  at  the  ren- 
dezvous on  Friday,  the  sixth  of  March,  they 
fully  expected  that  Shad  would  be  there  to 
greet  them,  but  they  were  disappointed.  His 
failure  to  appear  at  this  late  date  excited 
alarm,  but  no  course  of  action  that  would  be 
in  the  least  likely  to  lead  to  results  presented 
Itself. 

They  agreed  that  the  Indians  had  beyond 
doubt  left  a  cache  at  the  Great  Lake,  for  Siahe- 
takushin  had  stated  to  Bob  that  he  would  do 
so;  and  upon  returning  to  that  point  it  was 
believed  Shad  would  have  sufficient  food  to 
proceed  to  the  river  tilt.  Any  search  beyond 
the  Great  L..ke  would  be  fruitless,  for  none 
could  know  in  what  direction  to  search. 

Still  there  wis  no  Shad  on  Friday,  the  twen- 
tieth of  March.  They  ate  their  supper  and  re- 
sumed their  speculations. 


M! 


If  11' 


C68    THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

"  I'm  tbinkin',  now,  t'  make  a  cruise  t'  th' 
place  where  tti'  Injuns  was  camped  wlien  I  left 
un,"  declared  Bob.  "  It  they  ain't  ihcrc,  I'll 
come  back,  unless  I  sees  signs  of  un.  And, 
anyway,  'twill  make  me  feel  better." 

"  An'  I'll  go  along,"  said  Ed.  "  We'll  be 
startin'  in  th'  mornin'  early,  an'  we  may's 
well  get  our  stuff  out  t'-night,  ready  t' 
pack." 

They  had  blown  out  the  candle  and  were 
lying  in  their  bunks,  discussing  still  Shad's 
long  absence,  when  the  door  of  the  tilt  was 
pushed  quietly  open  and  the  figure  of  a  man 
appeared  in  the  moonlight  at  the  entrance. 

They  sprang  from  their  bunks,  and  Ed 
Matheson,  striking  a  match,  applied  it  to  a 
candle.  As  the  light  flared  up  the  man  entered, 
and  Morkoomahn  stood  before  them. 


XXIV 


THE  MESSENGER 


THEY  looked  at  the  Indian  in  awed  and 
Bpeeehless  horror.    iJis  tale  of  suffer- 
ing  was  told  before  he  spoke.    He  had 
comefrr     a  land  of  Tragedy.    He  had  been 
stalking  side  by  side  with  Death. 

This  was  a  mere  shrdowy  caricature  of  the 
Mookoomahn  Bob  ha.  ..aown.  Tlae  face  was 
flechless  as  that  of  a  .Keleton  head,  with  the 
skin  of  the  former  inhabitant  stretched  and 
dried  upon  the  bones;  the  lips  so  shrunken 
that  they  scarcely  served  to  cover  the  two 
white  lines  of  teeth;  the  eyes  deep  fallen  into 
gaping  cavities  below  the  frontal  bone 

Drawing  his  skeleton  hands  from  their  mit- 
ens,  and  raising  them  in  an  imploring  ges- 
ture Mookoomahn  looked,  as  he  stood  there 
m  the  dim  candlelight  under  the  low  log  ceil- 
ing, more  a  spectre-a  ghostly  phantom  visitor 
—than  a  living  human  being. 
Then  he  spoke  in  a  voice  low  and  broken: 


Ill 


870 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


"  "White  Brother  of  the  Snow,  Mookoomahn 
has  long  been  tormented  by  the  Spirit  of  Hun- 
ger. When  he  slept  the  Spirit  of  Starvation 
sat  by  his  side,  never  sleeping.  When  he  trav- 
elled the  Spirit  of  Starvation  stalked  at  his 
heels,  never  tiring.  For  many  suns  the  Spirit 
of  Death  has  had  his  cold  fingers  on  Mookoo- 
mahn's  shoulder." 

Gently  Bob  removed  the  caribou-skin  coat 
from  the  starving  and  exhausted  traveller,  and 
made  him  comfortable  while  the  others  brewed 
tea  and  heated  some  cold  boiled  ptarmigan  in 
the  pan. 

"  'Twon't  do  t'  give  he  much  at  first,"  cau- 
tioned Dick  Blake,  setting  before  Mookoomahn 
a  small  portion  of  the  meat  and  a  small  piece 
of  bread  with  a  cup  of  the  hot  tea.  "  He 's  like 
t'  be  wonderful  sick,  anyway,  th'  carefuUest 
we  is.  We'll  let  he  have  a  small  bit  at  a  time, 
an'  let  he  have  un  often." 

No  questions  were  asked  until  after  the  In- 
dian had  eaten.  It  seemed  almost  that  no  ques- 
tions were  necessary.  The  man  had  come 
alone.  He  was  in  the  last  stages  of  starva- 
tion. These  facts  spoke  loudly  enough.  They 
told  the  tale  of  wasting  strength,  of  hopeless 


THE  MESSENGER  371 

stniggle  of  tragic  death  that  had  taken  place 
in  the  bleak  wild  wastes  above. 

The  food  revived  and  the  tea  stimulated 
Mookoomahn,  and  when  he  spoke  again,  in 
answer  to  Bob's  urgent  request  that  he  tell 

thern  of  the  fate  of  Shad  and  the  others,  h 
voice  was  stronger. 

He  described  the  journey  to  the  Lake  of 
W^lows,  and  thence  to  the  camp  of  starving 
Indians.  He  told  how  the  shaman  had  made 
medicine  to  the  spirits;  how  the  spirits  had 
revealed  to  the  shaman  the  things  that  it  was 

required  the  Indians  do,  how  the  Indians  in 
heir  starved  condition  were  not  able  to  fulfil 
he  requirements  laid  upon  them  by  the  spir- 
its;  and  how  in  consequence  the  wrath  of  the 
spirits  was  not  placated. 

He  described  the  journey  to  the  cache  on  the 
northern  lake,  Sishetakushin's  instructions 
and  eift  of  Manikawan  to  White  Brother  ot 
the^Snow;  of  the  parting  from  Sishetaku- 

Vividly  he  detailed  the  long  and  tedious 
return  to  the  Great  Lake,  and  how  the  angry 
spirits  reaching  up  had  seized  Shad,  cast  Wm 
mto  the  snow,  and  lamed  him. 


87ie  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

"  The  friend  of  White  Brother  of  the  Snow 
could  not  walk.  The  Matchi  Manitu  had 
wounded  his  knee.  Manikawan,  the  sister  of 
Mookoomahn,  had  promised  White  Brother  of 
the  Snow  that  she  would  not  leave  his  friend 
until  he  came. 

"  Mookoomahn  told  Manikawan  White 
Brother  of  the  Snow  would  not  hold  her  to 
her  promise.  That  White  Brother  of  the  Snow 
did  not  mean  that  she  should  die  for  his 
friend. 

"  Manikawan  would  not  listen  to  Mookoo- 
mahn, and  she  said: '  When  White  Brother  of 
the  Snow  comes  he  will  find  Manikawan 
waiting  with  his  friend.  She  has  promised. 
If  the  Spirit  of  Death  comes  into  the  lodge, 
White  Brother  of  the  Snow  will  find  Mani- 
kawan's  hody  with  the  body  of  his  friend, 
and  he  will  know  that  Manikawan  kept  her 
word.' 

"  Seven  suns  ago  Mookoomahn  left  the 
lodge.  He  travelled  slowly,  for  the  spirits 
clung  to  his  feet  and  made  them  heavy.  The 
spirits  tripped  him  and  made  him  fall  often. 
He  killed  three  ptarmigans  as  he  travelled, 
and  the  flesh  of  the  ptarmigans  made  him 


THE  MESSENGER  273 

T:!LT ''' '-''' ''  ^^"^  «-^- 

"For    seven    suns    the    friend   of   White 
Brother  of  the  Snow  and  Manikawan  have  had 

"°/7  J-  '^'-W  of  Death  stood  verynear 
the  lodge  when  Mookoomahn  left  it.  The 
Spmt  of  Death  has  entered  the  lodge  and  de! 
stroyed  Manikawan  and  the  friend  of  White 
Brother  of  the  Snow." 

ceal'd^  ^^V""^^''  P'-'Phe'^y  Mookoomahn 

As  they  looked  at  him  they  could  appreciate 
the  snffenngs  of  Shad  and  Manikawan,  and 
.0  great  stretch  of  the  imagination  was  neces 
ary  to  picture  the  gruesome  spectacle  that 
they  had  no  doubt  awaited  them  in  the  lodge 
on  the  Great  Lake.  ^ 


XXV 


A  MISSION  OF  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

BOB'S  face  had  grown  pale  and  tense  as 
he  listened.    With  Mookoomahn's  last 
words  he  rose  from  the  edge  of  the  bunk 
where  he  had  seated  himself,  and  turning  to 
Ed  Matheson,  asked : 

"  Be  you  goin'  with  me,  Ed?  Th'  moon's 
good  for  travellin',  an'  I  knows  th'  way." 

"  That  I  be,"  Ed  responded,  beginning  his 
preparation  at  once.  "  I  couldn't  be  restin' 
here  a  minute  kno"-in'  them  poor  souls  was 
dyin'  out  there." 

"  I'm  goin',  too,"  declared  Dick  Blake, 
reaching  for  his  adicky.  "  Three  can  travel 
faster 'n  two,  by  changin'  off  in  th'  lead." 

"  What  you  doin',  Bill,  with  your  adicky, 
now?  "  Ed  suddenly  asked,  observing  that 
Bill  Campbell  was  also  drawing  on  his  adicky. 
"  Goin',"  answered  Bill  laconically. 
«'  No,  Bill,  you  better  stay  here  with  th' 

274 


A  MISSION  OF  LIFE  AND  DEATH  275 
Injun,'-  directed  Ed.  "  Somebody'U  have  V 
s^y«.thhe.  Iftheydon.t,byto-l„erhel 
getja^tm' so  much  he'll  kill  hisaelf  if  he  ab't 

''You  stay  an' keep  an  eye  on  he.    Give  he 
just  a  small  bit  t'  a  time    till  v,.      * 
th'  fippf     -1  '         "®  ^^^^  over 

th  first  sickness.  He'll  be  wonderful  sick 
t'-n:ght,  an'  for  a  week,  but  sick's  he  is  bv 
day  after  t'-morrer  he'll  be  wonderful  hunU" 
toorV:"\^^"^*''-^'-i«»'^.a'''-7e' 
hT;  Tun^V"'"  *°"  "'"'''  '*"'"  '^''l  he  sure, 
ye  ,  whatever,  two  ways-wantin'  f  stuff  un 
an' makin' he  sick  because  he  does" 

Bill  Campbell  was  plainly  disappointed,  but 
th  re  was  no  doubt  Ed  was  right,  and  lading 

thfro?"  f    '  '^  -compIa:ningly  assumed 
tt^  role  of  nurse  to  which  Ed  had  as.      ,d 

The  men  set  forth  in  haste  upon  their  mis- 

«K,n  of  Me  and  death.  TTie  moon,  a  White,  r^ 
patch,  lay  agamst  the  steel-blue  sky  The 
snow,  thick  coated  with  frost,  glittered  and 
Bcmtillated  in  the  moonlight.  A  silence  im 
pressive,  complete,  tense,  lay  upon  the  frozen 
white  world.    It  spoke  of  death,  as  the  bated 


ne         THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

breath  of  the  storm,  before    ;  breaks,  speaks 
of  calamity. 

The  three  trappers,  who  had  entered  the  tilt 
that  evening  wearied  from  the  day's  labour 
upon  the  trail,  forgot  their  weariness  as  they 
swung  forward  at  a  rapid  pace  toward  the 
camp  on  the  Great  Lake. 

First  one,  then  another,  took  the  lead,  break- 
ing the  trail  and  making  it  easier  for  those 
who  followed.  To  men  less  inured  to  hard- 
ship and  less  accustomed  to  wilderness  travel, 
it  would  have  been  a  killing  pace,  continued 
unabated,  unvarying,  hour  after  hour. 

At  length  the  moon,  falling  near  the  western 
horizon,  threatened  quickly  to  withdraw  her 
light;  and  then  a  halt  was  called,  the  tent 
quickly  stretched  between  two  convenient 
trees,  the  sheet-iron  stove  set  up,  a  fire  lighted, 
a  few  boughs  spread  for  a  bed,  and  the  men 
stretched  themselves  for  a  two  hours'  rest. 

They  were  up  again  before  light,  a  hurried 
breakfast  was  eaten,  and  with  daybreak  they 
were  away.  Seldom  was  a  word  spoken.  Each 
was  occupied  with  his  own  thoughts,  and  each 
was  stingy  of  his  breath.  To  have  talked 
would  have  been  to  expend  energy. 


A  MISSION  OF  LIFE  AND  DEATH    S77 

Only  once  during  the  day  did  they  halt,  early 
in  the  evening,  to  make  tea  and  partake  of 
much-needed  refreshment,  and  then  were 
quickly  on  their  way  again,  continuing  by 
moonlight. 

It  was  past  midnight  when,  Ungava  Bob  in 
the  lead,  crossing  a  barren  rise,  beheld  the 
smooth   white   surface   of   the    Great    Lake 
stretching  far  away  to  the  northward.    De- 
scending the  ridge  and  plunging  into  the  thin 
forest  below,  he  turned  with  a  nameless  dread 
at  his  heart  toward  the  lodge  where,  three 
months  before,  he  had  said  farewell  to  Shad 
and  Manikawan.    Then  they  were  in  the  full 
exuberance   of  health   and   streng'        How 
should  he  find  them  now!    He  dart,  .ot  an- 
swer the  question. 

A  little  farther,  and  the  lodge,  a  black  blot 
on  the  snow,  loomed  up  through  the  trees 
Quickening  his  pace,  he  peered  anxiously 
ahead  for  smoke,  half  hoping,  wholly  dreading, 
the  result.  Yes,  there  it  was!  The  merest 
whiff  nsmg  above  the  protruding  lodge  poles 
at  the  topi    At  least  one  lived! 

Bob  broke  into  a  run,  the  others  at  his  heels 
and,  scarcely  halting  to  drop  the  hauling  rope' 


ns 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


of  his  toboggan  from  his  shoulders,  he  lifted 
the  flap  and  entered,  calling  as  he  did  so: 

"  Shad!  Shadt  MflnikawanI  Does  you 
hear  met  " 

The  place  was  dark.  The  smouldering  em- 
bers of  a  fire  gave  out  no  light,  and  receiving 
no  answer  Bob  shouted  to  the  others  to  bring 
a  candle.  Ed  Matheson  had  anticipated  the 
need,  and,  close  at  Bob's  side,  struck  a  light. 


XXVI 

"  GREATER  LOVE  RATH  NO  M4N 
THAN  THIS  " 

AS  the  candle  sputtered  lor  a  moment  and 
/\then  flared  up,  it  re/ealed,  lying  prone 
on  opposite  sides  of  the  lodge,  feet  to  the 
embers  of  the  dying  Sre,  two  human  wrecks, 
whose  emaciated  features  and  shrunken  forms' 
could  n'.ver  have  been  recognised  as  those  of 
Shad  and  Manikawan. 

Bob  stooped,  and  taking  Shad  gently  by  the 
shoulder  shook  him,  saying  as  he  did  so: 
"Shad!    Shad!    Shad!" 
Slowly  Shad,  awakening  from  deep  and  ex- 
hausting  slumber,  opened  his  cavernous  eyes 
and  stared  vacantly  at  Bob. 

"  Shad!  "  Bob  repeated.  "  'Tis  Bob  an' 
Ed  an' Dick  come  for  yon:  Shad!  We  has 
grub.  Shad!  " 

Still  Shad  gave  no  sign  of  recognition. 
"Shad!     Shad!"  pleaded  Bob.     "Don't 
you  know  me  now,  Shad?  " 

279 


\l'd 


tSO  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

Then  light  came  into  Shad's  face,  and  be 
forced  himself  to  a  sitting  position. 

"  Bob  I  Oh,  Bob  I ''  he  exclaimed,  in  a  weak 
yoice.  "  Am  I  awake  or  is  it  jusv  a  dreamt 
Ob,  Bob  I  Oood  old  Bob !  And  Ed !  and  Dick  I 
I  was  dreaming  of  you  and  the  tilts.  The  dear 
old  tilts!  And  you've  comtl  You've  really 
comet  I  heard  you  calling,  Bob — days  and 
days  and  days  I  heard  you,  and  I  answered. 
But  my  voice  was  too  weak;  and  you  couldn't 
bear. 

"  We've  been  in  bell,  Bob  I  In  hell!  The 
devils  chased  us.  Bob — chased  us  for  months 
and  months  and  months.  They  looked  like 
wolves,  Bob — hungry,  ugly  wolves.  I  shot 
one!  Yes,  shot  it!  We  ate  it,  and  it  was 
good!  Ate  the  devil.  Bob!  and  Ed  I  and 
Dick !  Are  you  angels  from  heaven,  or  really 
yout  " 

"A  bit  o'  tea's  what  he  needs  first  thing," 
suggested  Ed,  in  a  shaky  voice,  as  Shad 
paused  in  his  ramblings.  "  Dick,  you  cut  some 
wood,  now,  an'  I'll  be  fillin'  th'  kettle  with  Ice 
an'  get  un  over.  Bob  better  be  stayin'  right 
here." 

"  Bib!  "  Shad  continued,  as  Dick  and  Ed 


"GREATER  LOVE  HATH  NO  MAN"    tsi 

passed^  out  of  the  iodge.    "  Ig  it  roally  you, 

His  voice  was  now  more  rational,  though 
very  weak. 

"  Yes,  Shad,  'tis  me." 

"  How  is  Manikawan,  Bob?   Look  after  her 

won't  you?    I'm  all  right  now.    I've  tried  to' 

keep  her  out  of  the  deep  sleeps  she  falls 

into.     I've  been  afraid  shn'd   die.      But  I 

was  very  tired,  and  I  think  I  must  have  been 

very    sound    asleep    myself-and    slept    for 

hours.    Leave  me,  Bob,  and  wake  her  up.   I'm 
all  right." 

Bob  obediently  passed  over  to  Manikawan 
leaving  Shad  sitting  and  anxiously  watchinJ 
him. 

It  seemed  for  a  time  that  he  was  not  to 
succeed  in  rousing  Manikawan  from  the  coma- 
like sleep  into  which  she  had  passed.  But 
when  Dick  placed  wood  upon  the  fire,  and  the 
lodge  began  to  warm,  she  displayed  symptoms 
of  waking;  and  Bob  lifted  her  head  to  his 
shoulder,  chafed  her  temples,  and  spoke  her 
name  over  an-'  jgain.   At  last  she  opened 

her  eyes,  and    .nL  almost  instant  recognition 
smiled : 


Mfl 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLP 


"  White  Brother  of  the  Snow— Manikawan 
is  glad  you  have  come.  It  has — been — long — 
but  Manikawan  knew— White  Brother  of  tho 
Snow — would  come  at  last — she  did  not — 
leave  his  friend." 

Then  she  paused,  exhausted,  but  presently 
continued : 

"  Manikawan  told— White  Brother  of  the 
Snow— she  would— stay  u„iil  he  came— for  his 
friend." 

"  Manikawan  has  done  well.  She  has  been 
very  brave.  She  is  a  Ne-ne-not  (Nascaupee), 
and  brave."  Bob  could  trust  himself  to  say 
no  more,  for  his  voice  was  thick. 

Manikawan 's  eyes  lighted  at  these  words  of 
praise,  and,  never  taking  them  from  Bob's 
face,  she  lay  silent  upon  his  shoulder  until  the 
food  was  ready. 

Ed  Matheson  gave  some  tea  and  a  small 
portion  of  broiled  ptarmigan  and  bread  to 
Shad,  while  Bob  held  the  cup  for  Manikawan, 
then  fed  her  some  morsels  of  the  meat  as  one 
would  have  fed  a  child.  It  was  difficult  for  her 
to  eat,  though  the  tea  stimulated  her  tempo- 
rarily, and  she  began  presently  to  speak  again, 
.in  a  scarcely  audible  voice: 


"GREATER  LOVE  HATH  NO  MAN"   m 

The    Gaunt    Gray-Wolf_wng-alway.-be 

at-the-door-of  the-lodge.  The  spirits- 
were-BtroDg-and  cui.mng_like-tho  wol- 
venne-Man.awa.-waa-wea.-H.e- 

and  Bor;  n\f  '''""'  "*""  -""^  '""1  to  rest, 
and  Boo  held  the  cup  of  tea  to  her  lips.    With 

renewed  strength  she  continued  ■ 

'•  Manikawan  -  killed  -  two  ptarmigans  - 

w.  h-her-arrow.    S>a^ate-tho-entrails- 

but  she-gave-the  m..t-to  the  friend-of 

WhUe  Brother  of-tLe  Snow.    She  was-no 

afra,d-to    die.     She-could-not    say    to- 

WhUe  Brother-of  the  Snow-when  he  came 

-The  Sp.r.t-of  Death-has-entered-the 

lodge-and-taken-your-friend.'  " 

J^^Z'  '',"V°°*^"'  P""*'-  ^"^  coo^d  see, 
and  Ed  and  Dick  could  see  that  the  Spirit  o' 
Death  was  even  then  i„  the  lodge,  and  that  hi. 
cold  hand  was  upon  Manikawan  's  brow.  Tears 
nokled  down  Bob's  cheeks.  He  could  no 
check  them. 

'  'WTiite— Brother— , 


-not-feel-bad.    He-must-be- 


— must 
strong. 


S84 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


Manikawan — is — happy.     She — is — warm — as 
— when — the — sun — grows — brave — in — sum- 
mer— and — comes — to — warm — the — earth.  * ' 
A  smile  played  upon  her  lips. 
' '  Manikawan — is  —  very — happy.     She  — 
gees — a — light— like — the — rising— sun.  White 

— Brother— of —the — Snow ' ' 

That  was  the  end.  Bob's  cheeks  were  wet 
as  he  laid  the  lifeless  form  upon  its  couch  of 
boughs,  and  gently  covered  it  with  a  deerskin 
robe;  and  tears  streamed  down  the  weather- 
beaten  cheeks  of  the  two  rough  trappers  stand- 
ing at  his  side. 

Manikawan  was  not  a  Christian.  She  had 
never  heard  of  Christ  and  His  saving  grace. 
But  dare  any  say  He  did  not  welcome  her  to 
His  Father's  house? 

She  had  renounced  her  own  hope  of  life  by 
remaining  behind  in  the  lodge  when  Mookoo- 
mahn  left  them.  In  the  name  of  love  and  duty 
she  had  made  the  supreme  sacrifice — she  had 
laid  down  her  life  for  another— and  Christ 
hath  said:  "  Greater  love  hath  no  man  than 
this,  that  a  man  lay  down  his  life  for  his 
friends." 
And,  after  all,  did  Manikawan  not  worship 


"GREATER  LOVE  HATH  NO  MAN"   285 

the  same  God  that  you  and  I  worship?  Stand- 
ing upon  the  high  pinnacle  of  rock,  looking 
toward  the  rising  sun,  she  offered  a  silent 
prayer  to  the  Great  Mystery,  that  she  might 
be  made  nobler,  braver,  and  more  generous- 
worthy  to  stand  in  the  presence  of  the  Great 
Mystery-the  Maker  of  heaven  and  earth  and 
all  things. 

We  call  Him  God.    Manikawan  called  Him 
the  Great  Mystery. 


xxvn 

SHAD'S  TRIBUTE  TO  THE  INDIAN 
MAIDEN 


*    1    ! 


THOUGH  Shad's  weakness  caused  him  to 
wobble  woefully  when  he  walked,  his 
knee  had  much  improved  since  the  day 
of  his  injury. 

The  food,  given  him  in  small  portions  at  fre- 
quent intervals,  and  the  assurance  of  con- 
tinued life  that  the  appearance  of  the  rescu- 
ers brought,  stimulated  his  body  to  new 
strength  and  restored  to  him  his  mental 
equilibrium.  Hope  is  life,  and  one  possessed 
of  a  large  degree  of  hope,  coupled  with  a 
good  physique,  may  withstand  a  tremendous 
amount  of  hardship  and  privation. 

The  very  presence  of  Manikawan  during  the 
long  period  of  enforced  inactivity  and  waiting, 
had  kept  alive  in  Shad  Trowbridge  the  hope 
that  Mookoomahn  might  after  all  reach  the 
river  tilt  and  send  his  friends  to  the  rescue 


TRIBUTE  TO  THE  INDIAN  MAIDEN   W 

before  it  was  too  late.    Had  it  not  been  for 

''.  '*  ''  ^'''"•''^ly  P'-obable  he  would  have 
survived  until  they  came. 

The  few  Indian  words  which  Shad  had  ac- 
quired had  not  been  sufficient  to  porn.it  h^ 
to  carry  on  connected  conversation  with 
Man^awan  or  the  other  Indians.    Denied  this 

1  i  ^V"'  ^''PP"^'  ^'"^''^  «'e  four 
s  t  hrough  the  hours  until  daybreak,  keeping 
r '  -th  Death.  He  talked  of  the  prospec! 
of  contznued  life,  and  what  a  blessed  thing 

t  was  to  know  that  ..was  still  to  be  in  anf 
of  the  great  and  glorious  world;  of  his  trv 

Z'  ^"P^"^'"'^^    «-ce    he    had    joined    the" 

trees   not  far  from  the  lodge.  Then  they  re 
moved    0  :ts  more  comfortable  shelter,  with 

Bob  walkmg  at  Shad's  side  to  steady  h  sun 
certam  footsteps. 

Shad  was  sick,  and  suffered  severely  from 
nausea  that  day-end  at  intervals,  indeed  fo" 
-vera,  days  thereafter-a  result 'that  aly 
follows  the  introduction  of  food  into  the  con- 
tracted stomach  after  a  long  period  of  sta"I 


388 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


tion,  particularly  when  the  food  is  of  coarse 
quality  and  unsuitably  prepared. 

Almost  immediately,  too,  his  legs  began  to 
swell.  But  this  disturbed  him  little.  It  was 
merely  an  incident  and  another  result  of  his 
long  period  of  starvation,  quite  to  be  ex- 
pected. 

"  Don't  worry  about  un  none,"  advised  Ed 
Matheson,  when  Shad  called  attention  to  the 
phenomenon.  "  Injuns  as  starves  always  gets 
swelled  legs,  an'  they  stays  swelled  for  quite 
a  bit,  too.  Just  forget  un  now.  You'll  be 
all  right  so  long's  you  don't  get  too  rapid  wi* 
th'  grub,  an'  set  you'm  belly  swellin'  too  fast." 

"  Ed,"  said  Shad,  "  after  what  I've  been 
through,  I  think  there's  nothing  would  alarm 
me  much.  It  doesn't  disturb  me  in  the  least  to 
have  my  legs  swell.  I'm  rather  proud  of  them. 
They  contrast  beautifully  with  the  rest  of  me, 
and  give  me  a  certain  sense  of  stability  that 
otherwise  I  should  not  have,  for  they're  the 
only  part  of  me  that  looks  in  the  least  natural. 
Do  you  hear  my  bones  rattle  when  I  move? 
I  have  a  presentment  that,  unless  I'm  pretty 
careful,  my  skeleton  will  fall  apart  before  I 
get  flesh  enough  to  hold  it  together." 


TRIBUTE  TO  THE  INDIAN  MAIDEN    289 

excla.:ned  Ed.    "  Not  growlin- like  a  bear  be- 
-use  they  looks  summat  like  a  dead  J,  „; 

evert:'t'"''''^'°'^^''-"«'--i"- 
eve  y  t,n.e  they  eats.  You'm  do  look  as  though 

you  n.  just  nze  from  th'  grave.    But  you 'ma 

wonderful  live  corpse  yet,  Shad.  A  ma'n  IT'S 
wen  be  happy  even  if  he  do  feel  like  all  crea- 
tion turned   inside  out,    'specially  when  he 

knows  he  a:n'tgoin't' keep  feelin' that  way 
A  man  :s  just  as  happy  as  he's  thinkin'  he  is. 
an  no  happier,  an'  as  miserable  as  he's 
tlnnhn'heisan'nomiserabler.    I  fii,ds  be  n ' 

happy  an' content  wi- things  is  just  a  Lt^r 
o   th'wayo'lookin'atun." 

Shad^' "  T^*^'  I  !^'°''  ^""''^  ''^^^'"  «g-««d 
to  h.  r  ^  '"/'''^'"^  "^  f«ult-  I'm  thankful 
to  be  ahve  and  in  the  beautiful  world,  and  I'm 

very  much  contented  with  my  lot.    I  would  be 
poor  uttJe  Indian  girl." 
The  earth,  frozen  to  adamantine  hardness 

during  the  winter  season.  Therefore,  after 
the  manner  of  her  people,  a  platform  of  poles 
h'gh  raised  above  the  snow,  was  built  am  ng 


890  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

the    spruce    trees    to    receive    Manikawan's 
body. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  the  plat- 
form was  completed  and  the  four  weather- 
beaten  men  again  entered  the  silent  lodge, 
where  they  were  to  conduct  a  simple,  primi- 
tive funeral  service,  and  give  Manikawan  the 
rites  of  Christian  burial  before  raising  her 
body  to  the  platform. 

Bob,  who  never  was  separated  from  the  lit- 
tle Testament  his  mother  had  given  him  years 
before,  drew  the  book  from  his  pocket  when 
they  had  seated  themselves  in  the  lodge,  and 
opening  to  John  xv,  passed  it  to  Shad,  who, 
accepting  it,  read  the  chapter  aloud  in  a  low 
but  clear  voice,  while  the  others  reverently 
listened. 

"  Bob,"  said  Shad  at  length,  closing  the 
Testament,  "  you  knew  her  first.  Tell  us 
about  her." 

Eesponding,  Bob  described  how  Sishetaku- 
shin  and  Mookoomahn,  finding  him  uncon- 
scious in  the  snow,  had  carried  him  to  their 
lodge — the  very  lodge  in  which  they  were  now 
sitting;  and  how  upon  first  opening  i;is  eyes 
to  consciousness  he  had  seen  her,  weaving  the 


TRIBUTE  TO  THE  INDUN  MAIDEN    «9I 

firt°Lt  ir''°:'  °'^""^  ^''"'  «<=--  tj-e 

had  looked  up  and  smiled  when  she  d  scove  ed 
he  was  awake.  And  then,  ever  gentle  ever 
eons.derate,  she  had  nursed  hin.  to  he  m.  and 
m.n:stered  to  him  until  he  had  left  thl:' 
When  Bob  had  finished,  Shad  spoke  of  her 
-er.f.,        ,,„„^,,,„,„^^^   and^oLi  : 

as    u„!,    *^^^°'=°»"g«'ne''t  of  her  example 
as    uncomplaining,  she  followed  the  weary 
endless  trail  day  after  day.     Of  bJZ  ^ 
^  laid  upon  his  shouldl  a^sh'eVo S 
"•to  his  eyes  and  spoke  words  of  encoural 
ment  he  could  „ot  understand,  but  whi     neT; 
fa^ed  to  call  him  back  to  himself  and  his  min 
hood  and  to  banish  an  impulse  whicrf::." 
quently  a.saijd  him  to  give  up  the  fight 
^or  hf  ,  lie  down  in  the  snow  and  accept 
IrT''    from    suffering    which    DeaTh 
"  But  her  crowning  sacrifice,"  said  <ihnA 

ZTr'u  "^^  '°'^^''  '^"t  have  survived 

"  "'»^»™  ™ld  have  gone  on  ,iu,  Moo. 


29X  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

koomahn  and  saved  herself.  He  went  to  you 
and  told  you  of  our  need.  He  did  well,  but 
he  did  it  mainly  to  save  himself.  It  was  the 
instinct  of  self-preservation  that  gave  him  in- 
spiration to  accomplish  it.  But  she  remained, 
and  remaining  she  gave  me  the  only  food  that 
fell  to  her  arrow,  while  she  starved.  That  was 
divine  unselfishness— divine  sacrifice." 

Stepping  to  the  side  of  Manikawan's  life- 
less body,  he  lifted  and  laid  aside  the  skin 
robe  which  covered  her  face,  then  kneeling  at 
her  side,  with  tears  upon  his  cheeks,  he  con- 
tinned  : 

"  Manikawan,  your  skin  was  red,  but  your 
soul  was  as  white  as  the  driven  snow  that  cov- 
ers the  desolate  land  of  your  people.  Your 
features  are  shrunken  with  starvation  and 
suffering,  but  still  they  are  beautiful,  for  they 
reflect  the  beautiful,  unselfish  soul  which  they 
once  sheltered. 

"  Your  lips  smile.  Did  you  see  the  glory 
of  heaven  as  you  passed  from  us— a  thousand 
times  more  beautiful  than  the  brilliant  aurora 
or  the  gorgeous  sunsets  that  glorify  the  skies 
of  this  land  of  awful  desolation  where  you 
existed!    Did  you  see  the  light  of  the  Eternal 


M 


TRIBUTE  TO  THE  INDIAN  MAIDEN    m 

City  shining  through  its  gates  when  they  were 
opened  to  receive  youf  " 
As  though  in  answer  to  Shad's  question  the 

ast  rays  of  the  setting  sun  dropped  through 
the  open  top  of  the  lodge  and  rested  upon  the 
upturned  face  of  the  dead  Indian  maiden  in  a 
bright,  illuminating  glow. 

"  Manikawan,  you  sacrificed  your  life  to 
duty  and  to  human  sympathy.  Yon  died  a 
Chnstlike  death,  and  your  sacrifice  shall  not 
be  wasted.  Your  body  is  dead,  but  your  spirit 
still  hves. 

"So  long  as  the  breath  of  life  i,  in 
me,  Manikawan,  I  shall  never  forget  your  ex- 
ample  of  patience  and  encouragement  and 
self-effacement.  It  has  built  for  me  new 
Ideals,  It  has  taught  me  that  there  are  other 
thmgs  to  live  for  than  the  mere  attainment 
of  pleasure  and  the  gratification  of  selfish 
desires. 

"Yon  were  an  Indian,  Manikawan,  and  the 
world  would  have  called  you  a  pagan  and  a 
savage.  But  you  have  pointed  out  to  me  the 
way  to  a  nobler  and  better  life." 

Shad  arose  and  resumed  his  seat.  He  had 
spoken  in  a  voice  of  tense  earnestness,  and 


Hji 


)  ; 


S94  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

for  a  little  while  all  gat  in  awed  silence.  Then 
Ed  Matheson  began  to  oing,  and  the  others 
joined  him: 

"  Roek  of  Agti,  cltft  <or  nwi 
Ltt  ni«  bide  myaeU  in  tbM." 

With  the  last  notes  of  the  grand  old  hymn 
they  all  knelt,  while  big  Dick  Blake,  in  a  voice 
shaken  with  emotion,  offered  a  short  but  fer- 
vent prayer. 

Manikawan's  body  was  wrapped  tightly  in 
deerskin  robes,  and  in  the  darkening  twilight 
of  the  cold  winter  evening  it  was  reverently 
borne  to  the  newly  erected  platform  among  the 
spruce  trees.  Here  it  was  to  lie  exposed  to 
winds  and  storms,  but  beyond  the  reach  of 
marauding  animals,  until  the  next  summer's 
sun  should  warm  and  soften  the  earth  sufiS- 
eiently  to  permit  Mookoomahn  and  the  trap- 
pers to  dig  a  grave  and  lay  it  in  its  final 
resting-place. 


XXVIII 

TROWBRIDGE  AND  GRAY,  TRADERS 

AT  the  end  of  a  week,  when  the  sup- 
S\Vly  of  provisions  which  the  trappers  had 
brought  with  them  was  running  low, 
Shad  suggested  that  he  was  quite  able  to  make 
the  journey  to  the  river  tilt.  His  knee  was 
now  so  far  improved  that  it  caused  him  but 
shght  inconvenience  to  walk,  and  he  was  rap- 
idly regaining  strength. 

He  was  anvious  indeed  to  return  to  the  tilt 
He  thought  of  it  much  as  one  thinks  of  home- 
and  the  thought  carried  with  it  visions  of  rest 
and  comfort.  The  others  could  ill  afford  a 
onger  absence  from  their  trails,  and  it  was 
therefore  with  a  sense  of  deep  satisfaction  to 
all  that  the  camp  on  the  shore  of  the  Great 
Lake  was  broken. 

Travelling  slowly,  with  Shad  following  in 
the  well-packed  trail  which  the  others  made 
they  arrived  at  their  destination  on  an  after- 

»5 


>96 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


noon  five  days  later,  and  were  welcomed  by 
Bill  Campbell  and  Mookoomahn. 

How  deeply  or  how  lightly  Mookoomahn 
felt  when  be  learned  of  Manikawan'8  death, 
none  knew.  He  listened  in  stoical  silence 
while  Bob  related  to  him  in  detail  the  circum- 
stances of  her  going  and  the  subsequent  hap- 
penings in  the  lodge  and  in  the  camp  at  the 
Great  Lake;  but  throughout  the  recital  Moo- 
koomahn made  no  comments,  and  bis  counte- 
nance betrayed  nothing  of  bis  sensations. 

Mookoomahn  was  recovering  rapidly.  He 
was  pasjiiii,  "ndeed,  quite  beyond  Bill  Camp- 
bell's control;  and  not  satisfied  now  with  the 
limited  portions  of  food  which  Bill,  religiously 
adhering  to  the  advice  he  had  received  from 
Dick  Blake  and  Ed  Matheson,  doled  out  to 
him,  he  had  the  day  before  the  return  of  the 
travellers  stolen  away  to  the  willows  along 
the  river  bank  below  the  tilt,  killed  some  ptar- 
migans on  his  own  account,  and  gorged  himself 
upon  the  flesh  to  his  temporary  satisfaction; 
but  nature  balanced  her  account  with  him  in 
the  hours  of  subsequent  agony  which  he  suf- 
fered for  his  indiscretion. 

Fully  a  month  elapsed  after  their  return  be- 


TROWBRIDGE  AND  GRAY.  TRADERS  ,97 

fore  Shad  could  oat  a  moal  with  nnv  a««ur 
"oe  that  it  would  not  bo  followed  by  di 
H.8  normal  appetite,  however,  had  be^n  to 
retun,  before  thoy  broice  c„.;  „„  .L^re 
Lake,  and  Uad  quickly  developed  into  a  highly 
abnormal  ajjpotite.  ^ 

No  sooner  was  one  meal  finished  than  his 
--d  was  centred  upon  the  next.    At  „i«|,t 

ast  thought  was  his  next  morning's  breakfast, 
and  when  he  awoke  breakfast  was  still  on  his 

--d.    Eating  during  this  period  of  recupera 
J^on  was  to  him  the  all-important  object  in 

It  was  nearly  a  month  after  his  return  to 
he  nver  tilt  that  Shad  first  learned  of  Bob's 
OSS  of  fortune.    It  was  upon  the  occasion  of 

the  fortnightly  rendezvous,  when  Ed  Mathe- 

son  remarked : 

"  Th'  next  round's  about  th'  last  we  can 

-ake.T,.f„r.s.™ost  too  poor  t' take,  now! 
an  when  I  ^„^^^  ^^^^  ^.^^  ^^^.^^  ^^  ^^ 

An    It  s  been  a  wonderful  poor  hunt." 
"  ^^'^'  wonderful  poor,  an'  wo:.derfuI  dis- 

appointin',"  sighed  Bob. 
"  Th '  worst  I  ever  see. "  continued  Ed    "If 

tweren't  for  you,  Bob,  clearin'  Dick's  an' 


298  THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 

my  old  debts,  we'd  be  in  a  bad  way  gettin'  next 
fall's  debt  from  th'  Company.  An'  now  your 
losin'  all  your  money,  th'  bad  furrin'  comes 
hard  on  you— wonderful  hard.  I'm  fearin'  th' 
new  debt  we'll  all  have  t'  start  off  next  sea- 
son with '11  be  a  big  un." 

"  What  money  did  you  lose,  Bob!  I  hadn't 
heard  of  it,"  asked  Shad,  as  Ed  passed  out 
of  the  tilt  to  join  Dick  and  Bill,  who  were 
cleaning  the  snow  from  the  roof  of  the  tilt  in 
anticipation  of  an  early  thaw. 

"  Th'  money  I  has  in  th'  bank  t'  St.  Johns," 
explained  Bob.  "  When  Ed  comes  back  from 
th'  Bay  he  brings  me  a  letter  from  Mother 
sayin'  th'  bank  broke  an'  th'  money's 
gone." 

"  That's  badl  "  Shad  sympathised.  "  How 
much  was  there?  " 

"  About  twelve  thousand  dollars.  But 
'tain't  so  bad.  We  has  th'  traps,  an'  th'  new 
trails  laid." 

"  But  that  was  the  capital  you  were  to  be- 
gin trading  on?  " 

"  Aye,  but  we'll  have  t'  give  th'  tradin'  up 
now.  I'm  thinkin'  th'  Lard  weren't  wantin' 
us  t'  go  tradin'  or  t'  have  th'  money,  an'  I'm 


T»OWB«n>GE  AND  g„av,  thabe.s   m 

of  the  poverty-stricken  condition  of  the  B.v' 
okw.,3^,^^^^^^ 

ful  enthusiasm  had  hoped  to  relieve-  and  „f 

An' I  were  thinkin' "sai/l  R^i,     i-^ 

Closed,  when  we  was  up  on  th'  Great  r  «v« 
-  a  a  rare  fine  thin,  ,would  h!  been  f 
th'  Injnns  if  I  hadn't  ha'  lost  th'  mo„eVt' 
m  ke  a  tradin'  station  an'  a  cache  o'  gr„b  „1 
th   other  end  o'  th'  Great  Lake-sevS^  or 


800 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


m 


eighty  miles  in  from  where  Manikawan  dies — 
so  when  another  bad  year  comes  th'  Injuns 
down  that  way  could  get  grub  t'  carry  un  out 
t'  th'  Ungava  post.  If  they'd  been  a  cache 
there  this  winter,  Manikawan  wouldn't  ha' 
died,  an'  a  lot  o'  th'  other  poor  Injuns  as  must 
ha'  died  would  ha'  got  out." 

"  That's  so,"  agreed  Shad.  "  What  an 
amount  of  suffering  it  would  have  saved !  And 
the  poor  little  Indian  girl  wouldn't  have  been 
sacrificed." 

The  others  returned  at  this  point,  and  con- 
versation drifted  into  other  channels — the 
striking  up  of  the  traps— the  probability  of 
an  early  break-up — the  bard  times  that  the 
present  season's  failure  was  certain  to  cause 
among  the  people  of  the  Bay. 

"  Bob,  if  you're  going  to  strike  up  and  make 
this  next  trip  your  last  one  of  the  season,  I'm 
going  over  the  trail  with  you,"  said  Shad,  the 
following  day.  ' '  I  want  to  see  again  the  trail 
I  helped  you  lay,  and  the  tilts  we  built  to- 
gether. It  seems  a  long  while  ago,  and  the 
memory  of  it  is  already  a  pleasant  one." 

So  on  Monday  morning  they  started  on  the 
last  round  of  traps  for  the  season.    The  days 


TROWBRIDGE  AND  GRAY,  TRADERS    301 

were  lo.g  now,  and  the  sun  was  still  high  when 
they  reachd  the  tilt  on  the  first  lake-the  2 
where  Manikawan  had  found  Bob's  rifle  a^d 
the  fi.t  Of  the  series  Of  tilts  Boh  and  sLi 

lou^lrt'  "'  '''  ''''''  ^"P-^--  -d  then 
lounged  back  upon  their  bunks  to  chat  of  their 
fir  t  exploration  of  the  trail,  their  visit  to   he 
falls,  and  of  Manikawan's  unexpected  appear 
ance  when  they  were  on  the  island 
Finally  they  lapsed  into  silence,  Shad  sit 

:eran;r"?"^^""^'''^-''^-on^i 
LT;  .  I'  '°  '"  ^''  P^''"^'  Bob  lying 
b  ek,  hzs  hands  folded  under  his  head,  his  lyes 

Suddenly  Shad  broke  the  silence  and  Bob's 
thoughts  with  the  question- 
Bob?"  would  you  like  me  for  a  partner, 

"A  trappin'  partner.  Shad?     -Twould  be 

himself  and  h.s  surroundings.    "  But  I  was 

hinkin    you'd  be  weary  o'  th'  trails,  Shad 
after  what  you've  been  through  "  ' 


SOS 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


"  No,  Bob,  a  trading  partner;  "  and  Shad 
sat  up.  "  You  were  going  into  business.  Bob, 
but  your  loss,  you  tell  me,  has  made  it  impos- 
sible, because  you  have  no  capital.  I'd  like 
to  be  let  in  on  your  plans,  for  they  appeal  to 
me.  Such  a  trading  operation  as  you  out- 
lined to  me  should  prove  not  only  profitable, 
but  at  the  sajne  time  would  be  a  practical 
method  of  relieving  a  vast  amount  of  suffer- 
mg.  It  would  give  the  Bay  people  independ- 
ence and  bring  them  a  good  many  comforts  of 
life  they've  never  enjoyed. 

"  And  if  your  suggestion  were  carried  out 
to  establish  two  or  three  trading  stations  with 
provision  caches  attached,  up  here  in  the  In- 
dian hunting  country,  there  could  be  no  repeti- 
tion of  this  year's  horrible  experience. 

"  Now,  Bob,  you  know  the  people  and  their 
needs,  and  you're  an  expert  in  judging  furs, 
but  you  haven't  the  funds  to  carry  out  your 
plan.  I  don't  know  much  about  these  things, 
but  I  have  the  funds.  Let's  come  together — 
your  experience  and  knowledge  against  my 
cash — and  form  a  partnership.  What  do  you 
sayt  " 

"  Oh,  Shad!     'Twould  be— 'twould  be  th' 


TROWBRIDGE  AND  GRAY.  THADERS    803 

grandest  thing  in  th'  world,  Shad!  "  and  Bob's 
ace  flushed  with  e.oite„,e„t,  and  then     ud 
denlj,  he  continued:  "But  I  couldn't  do  it 
Shad      'Twouldn't  be  fair  for  n.e  t' be  part 
-s,  for  I  hasn't  an,  .one,  t- put!:  frl" 

"Don'tbefoolish,  now,  Bob.    Don't  talk 

nonsense     Mo.ey  without  a  knowledge    ft  e 
people  and  their  needs  isn't  enough,    f  haven- 

aione.     But   with   your  knowledge   and   mv 
money  we'd  be  successful.  ^ 

dol'.rr''''  'f  ^  ^*""^  ""^"^  ««>««  that  things 
don    happen  by  chance,  but  are  brought  aboS 

iJob?  "  asked  Shad.  ^     ' 

"Aye,  'tis  th'  Lard  brings  things  t'  h«n 
pen,"  admitted  Bob  ^        ^P" 

Jf  7' f""' ''«*«"  to  me.  Icameh.-ein 
the  first  place  just  to  enjoy  a  pleasant  sum 
mer's  outxng.  Pleasure  and  good  times  were 
all  I  ever  thought  of,  and  I  knew  nothing" 
We  or  hfe-3  hi^i.^,  ^„^j^^^  ^  doub'ff  T 
cou^d  have  earned  my  own  bread  if  I  had  been 
turned  loose  in  the  world  empty-handed  bT 
-se  I  hadn't  the  power  or  p^tfeleti" 


804 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


to  a  thing  or  to  face  discouraging  conditions 
for  any  length  of  time. 

"  I  did  not  know  the  meaning  of  the  word 
toil;  I  did  not  know  what  privation  meant,  or 
the  suffering  that  comes  through  privation. 
I  had  always  had  whatsoever  my  fancy 
craved,  and  had  never  known  want  or  disap- 
pointment. 

"  Here  in  your  country.  Boh,  I  have  experi- 
enced toil.  I  have  been  tried  out  in  the  fur- 
nace fire  of  physical  suffering  and  mental 
agony,  and  I  have  learned  what  sympathy 
means. 

"  I  am  living  to-day  only  because  Manika- 
wan,  an  Indian  girl,  made  it  possible  by  the 
sacrifice  of  her  own  life  for  me  to  live.  I'd 
have  given  up  and  thrown  myself  down  in 
the  snow  to  die  a  hundred  times  but  for  the 
encouragement  she  gave  me  to  keep  going,  for 
I  was  constantly  possessed  of  a  desire  to  seek 
the  rest  and  peace  of  death.  And  those  poor 
Indians  shared  with  me.  Bob,  the  little  they 
had,  when  they  might  easily  have  left  me  to 
perish. 

"  Do  you  know.  Bob,  there  has  not  been  a 
night  since  she  died  that  I  have  not  dreamed 


TROWBRIDGE  AND  GRAY,  TRADERS    305 

of  Manlkawan?  She  seems  to  say  to  me-  '  J 
gave  my  life  for  yours.  Go  forth  and  make 
your  hfe  useful-offer  a  helping  hand  to  oth- 
ers. It  IS  m  your  power  to  guard  my  people 
from  starvation.'  So,  Bob,  iVe  got  to  do  it 
It  I  am  ever  to  have  peace  of  mind,  and  you've 
got  to  help  me. 

"  Do  you  think  that  these  things  just  hap- 
pened.  Bob?  Or  were  they  brought  about  by 
Divine  direction?  Don't  you  think  that  this 
combination  of  incidents  points  out  to  us 
our  hfe  work?  Don't  you  think  they  suggest 
that  we  are  to  unite  our  talents  and  so  use 
them  that  we  shall  not  only  help  ourselves 
but  help  others?  Come,  Bob,  what  do  you 
say?  "  •' 

For  a  moment  Bob  did  not  speak,  and  when 
He  did  his  voice  betrayed  deep  emotion 

"  '^^'  "^^y  yo"  pits  un,  Shad,  I'm  thinkin' 
now,  you'm  right.  'Tis  th'  Lard's  way  o' 
bnngin'  things  about.  You'm  wonderful  good, 
Shad,  t'  think  o-  me  for  a  partner,  an'  I'll 
be  wonderful  proud  t'  be  partners  with  you, 

"  That's  the  way  to  talk,  old  man!  "  ex- 
claimed Shad,  grasping  Bob's  hand. 


806 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


"I'm  not  knowin'  how  t'  thank  you,  Shad," 
replied  Bob,  his  heart  overflowing. 

"  That  feeling  is  reciprocated,  Bob,  so  we 
won't  either  of  us  thank  the  other.  Now  we've 
agreed  to  our  partnership,  we'll  have  plenty  of 
time  to  arrange  the  details  of  our  business 
before  we  go  to  the  Bay,  and  then  I  tlink 
you'll  have  to  make  a  trip  to  St.  Johns  or 
Boston  with  me  to  have  the  co-partnership 
agreement  drawn  and  executed  in  proper  legal 
form." 

Shad  explained  to  Bob  that  at  the  time  of 
his  birth  his  grandfather  set  aside  one  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars  to  be  held  in  trust  for 
his  benefit.  It  was  provided  that  the  income 
of  this  trust  fund  was  to  be  paid  to  his 
guardian  annually,  upon  his  birthday,  to  be 
applied  to  his  immediate  needs,  or  to  consti- 
tute an  annual  allowance  of  spending  money, 
until  he  attained  his  majority,  when  he  was  to 
receive  the  principal. 

"  But  I've  never  spent  any  of  Grandfather's 
allowance,"  said  Shad.  "  Father  got  me 
everything  I  needed  and  kept  me  supplied 
with  spending  money,  and  every  year  when  the 
income  from  the  trust  fund  came  in  Father 


TROWBRIDGE  AND  GRAY.  TRADERS    807 

bought  government  bonds  with  it  and  placed 
the  bonds  in  a  safety  deposit  vault  for  me. 

"  These  bonds  amount  to  more  than  the 
principal  of  the  trust  fund  now-I  don't  know 
just  how  much,  but  I  know  there's  consider- 
ably more  than  one  hundred  thousand  dollars 
for  they  have  been  earning  interest  all  these' 
years. 

"  This  money  is  mine  to  use  as  1  see  fit,  and 
I  m  going  to  invest  one  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars of  It  in  our  partnership  and  hold  the  bal- 
ance as  a  reserve.  Of  course  my  sister  will 
have  to  act  for  me  until  I'm  of  age  She's 
ten  years  older  than  I  am,  and  has  been  my 
guardian  since  Father  died.  She'll  not  object 
for  she  has  a  great  deal  of  confidence  in  my 
judgment.  ' 

"  When  Father  died,  nearly  three  years 
ago,  he  left  me  a  snug  fortune,  and  I  have 
plenty  to  live  on  even  if  our  trading  venture 
doesn't  prove  a  money-making  business  at 
first." 

''  'Tis  a  wonderful  lot  o'  money!  "  declared 
Bob.    "  More 'n  I  can  think  I" 

"  We'll  need  a  pretty  fair  capital  to  suc- 
ceed," said  Shad.    "  We'U  have  to  purchase 


SOS 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


tjf 


a  vessel  of  some  sort  to  carry  on  trade  along 
the  outer  coast,  and  bring  our  supplies  to  the 
Bay,  and  carry  to  market  our  furs,  fish,  and 
oil.  You'll  look  after  the  native  trade,  with 
the  men  you  employ  to  help  you,  but  I'll  have 
to  engage  expert  assistance  in  purchasing  the 
trading  goods  and  disposing  of  the  i)roducts 
to  the  best  advantage  until  1  finish  college  and 
learn  my  end  of  the  business.  All  will  cost 
money,  though  I  hope  when  we  once  get 
started  we'll  build  up  a  trade  that  will  war- 
rant it." 

Bob  went  to  his  bunk  that  night  with  his 
head  all  awhirl.  The  amount  of  capital  which 
Shad  proposed  to  put  into  their  partnership, 
and  the  extensive  business  which  he  proposed 
to  build  up,  were  too  big  and  too  wonderful 
for  Bob  to  comprehend  all  at  once. 

A  substantial  structure  had  indeed  taken  the 
place  of  his  tumbled  air  castles,  though  it  was 
long  before  he  could  bring  himself  to  realise 
that  this  structure  was  not,  after  all,  another 
and  greater  air  castle  than  those  which  had 
been  destroyed. 


XXIX 

THE  FRUIT  OF  MANIKAWAN'S 
SACRIFICE 

AT  lengtl.  tlie  break-up  came,  much  as  it 
^-X always  comes  in  tliat  country.  Tlie  sun, 
grown  strong  and  bold,  vanquished  the' 
Spirit  of  Frost.  The  snow  became  a  sea  of 
slush,  and  water  covered  the  ice  of  lakes  and 
nver.  Finally  the  clouds  opened,  and  for  a 
week  rain  fell  in  a  deluge. 

A  thousand  new  streams  sprang  into  bein- 
rushing  in  white  torrents  to  join  the  swollen 
nver.     Cascades  fell  from  every  ledge  and 
parapet.    Now  and  again  a  great  boulder  was 
loosened  and  went  crashing  down  a  hillside 
with  terrifying  roar.    The  river,  freed  from 
Its  ice  shackles,   overflowed  its  banks,  and  in 
the  wild,  unrestrained  ardour  of  its  new  power 
uprooted  trees  and  washed  them  away  upon 
Its  turbulent  bosom  as  it  dashed  madly  sea- 
ward. 

One  day,  when  the  rain  had  ceased  and  the 


810 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


waters  bad  somewhat  subsided,  Ungava  Bob 
and  Shad  Trowbridge,  accompanied  by  Moo- 
koomahn,  turned  northward  in  Shad's  canoe 
to  the  Great  Lake,  following  the  route  which 
Manikawan  had  taken  several  months  before 
in  her  journey  to  the  river  tilt. 

Manikawan 's  body  was  found  as  they  had 
left  it,  and  undisturbed.  It  was  lowered  from 
its  rude  platform,  and  they  laid  it  in  its 
final  resting-place  in  a  grave  among  the 
spruce  Irees  not  far  from  her  father's  lodge. 
Over  the  grave  a  cairn  of  boulders  was  raised, 
and  surmounted  by  a  tablet  of  wood  upon 
which  was  carved  simply  the  word  "  Mani- 
kawan." 

Then  they  parted,  Mookoi/..  r.  ■  am 
northward  in  his  long  and  1olio1>  joi  :/  ..  to 
join  his  people.  Bob  and  Shad  to  return  to  the 
river  tilt,  and  homeward. 

It  was  on  an  afternoon  late  in  June  when 
the  browned  and  weather-beaten  voyageurs 
turned  their  boat  into  Wolf  Bight.  What  a 
long,  long  time  had  elapsed,  it  seemed  to  Shad, 
since  that  foggy  morning  in  August  when 
they  had  left  the  little  cabin  and  said  fare- 
well to  the  tearful  group  upon  the  shore; 


■uriicy   tn  jnir,   hh   pvoplc' 


FRUIT  OF  MANIKAWAN'S  SACRIFICE   311 

and  how  homelike  and  restful  the  cabin 
looked  now!  What  an  age  of  experience 
had  passed  since  that  night  when  Bob  pulled 
him  out  of  the  Bay,  and  introduced  him,  shiv- 
ering and  wet,  to  its  hospitable  shelter  and 
warmth. 

As  they  approached  the  shore  a  glad  shout 
was  heard,  and  a  moment  later  Emily— who 
had  that  very  day  reached  home  from  St. 
Johns— and  Bessie,  who  was  there  to  meet 
her,  came  running  to  the  landing,  with  Mrs. 
Gray  and  Richard  and  Douglas  Campbell  at 
their  heels. 

Emily  laughed  and  cried  with  delight,  quite 
smothering  Bob  with  kisses,  and  when  she  re- 
linquished him  to  her  mother  she  kissed  each 
of  the  other  brown  faces.  Bob  was  quite  im- 
partial, and  when  his  mother  released  him 
Bessie  was  not  forgotten  in  his  greeting. 

The  most  important,  and  therefore  the  first 
piece  of  news  to  be  imparted,  was  the  part- 
nership agreement  between  Shad  and  Bob. 
Douglas  at  once  prophesied  success,  and  when, 
a  fortnight  later,  Bob  and  Richard  took  pas- 
sage with  Shad  to  St.  Johns,  Douglas  accom- 
panied them  as  expert  adviser  in  the  selection 


312 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


of  a  trading  vessel  and  the  necessary  supplies 
for  their  posts. 


The  firm  of  Trowbridge  and  Gray  began 
operations  with  the  establishment  of  stations 
in  the  interior,  as  originally  designed.  Dick 
Blake  was  engaged  to  take  charge  of  the  post 
at  the  northerly  end  of  the  Great  Lake,  where 
he  quickly  built  up  a  large  and  lucrative  trade 
with  both  Nascaupee  and  Mountaineer  Indians. 

The  river  tilt  was  enlarged,  and  became  a 
trading  station  and  supply  base  for  the  inte- 
rior, over  which  Ed  Matheson  presided. 

Bill  Campbell,  during  the  open  season  of 
navigation,  had  command  of  the  brigades  of 
Indians  employed  to  transport  goods  from 
Wolf  Bight  to  the  interior  posts,  and  during 
the  midwinter  months  conducted  a  sub-post 
and  storehouse  situated  at  the  southerly  end 
of  the  Great  Lake,  not  far  from  Manikawan's 
grave. 

With  the  interior  trade  in  such  able  hands, 
Ungava  Bob  devoted  his  attention  to  the  Bay 
trade,  and  it  is  needless  to  say  that  the  trap- 
pers of  the  region  prospered. 


FHUIT  OF  MANIKAVVAN'S  SACRIFICE   313 

Richard,  in  command  of  the  trim  schooner 
"  Manikawan,"  also  oi.mcd  a  piolitabie  trade 
with  livyeres  and  Eskimos  of  the  coast 

Shad  Trowbridge,  after  graduation  from 
college,  quickly  developed  into  an  able  busi- 
ness man,  and  personally  attended  to  the  pur- 
chase of  supplies  and  the  sale  of  products. 

Trowbridge  and  Gray  made  mistakes,  as 
was  to  bo  expected,  and  had  their  ups  and 
downs,  b,.t  in  the  end  they  sue  ^eeded,  and  the 
firm  IS  known  to-day  from  Boston  to  Hudson's 
Straits  as  one  of  the  most  honourable  and  sub- 
stantial concerns  in  the  North. 

At  the  very  beginning  of  their  career  Shad 
and  Bob  adopted  as  their  trademark  the  pic- 
ture of  an  Indian  maiden  with  bow  raised  and 
arrow  poised  ready  for  its  flight,  and  beneath 
It  the  word  "  Manikawan."    With  this  con- 
stantly before  them  Shad  declared  they  could 
never  stray  from  the  original  object  of  their 
enterprise,  and  could  never  forget  the  lesson 
taught  by  Manikawan 's  heroic  sacrifice     And 
never   since   the   firm   began    business   have 
Manikawan '8  people  failed  to  receive  relief  in 
times  of  need,  and  never  has  there  been  a  repe- 
tition of  the  awful  year  of  starvation. 


814 


THE  GAUNT  GRAY  WOLF 


"  'Tis  wonderfully  strange,  Bessie,  how 
things  come  about,"  Bob  sometimes  says  to 
his  wife,  in  their  cosy  home  at  St.  Johns.  "  I 
used  to  think  the  Lord  had  forgotten  me  some- 
times, but  I  always  found  later  that  those  were 
the  times  He  was  nearest  to  me." 

"  The  Lord  has  always  been  very  close  to 
you,  Bob,"  Bessie  invariably  replies. 

Emily,  at  the  earnest  solicitation  of  Shad, 
was  permitted  to  finish  her  education  in  Bos- 
ton under  the  chaperonage  of  Shad's  sister, 
and  developed  into  a  charming  and  accom- 
plished woman,  though  she  never  lost  her  love 
for  the  little  cabin  at  Wolf  Bight. 

But  the  failures  and  successes  of  Trow- 
bridge and  Gray,  and  the  experiences  of  Emily 
in  the  new  and  greater  world  which  she  en- 
tered, are  stories  by  themselves,  and  each 
would  require  a  volume  to  relate. 


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BIOGRAPHY— MISSIONARY 

JOHN  T.  FARIS        Atak»r0f"Mm  WktMadtCM^' 

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a  life  of  unusual  interest  and  an  impoitaat  addition  to  tbs 
aanals  of  modern  suaaionaiy  effort. 

MRS.  UURA  DEUNY  GARST 

A  West  '  •  >inter  in  the  Land  of  the 
Mikado 

Illustrated    iimo,  .loth,  net  $i^S. 

The  Itory  o^  a  great  life  given  unreservedly  to  tbc  serrles 
of  God  in  Japan — a  life  story  representative  of  the  best  the 
West  senda  the  East  and  typical  of  that  missionary  spirit  in 
America  which  is  one  of  the  marvelous  things  in  toe  growth 
of  the  Christ  life  in  man.  Ibe  Christian  world  will  be  proud 
of  and  wish  to  study  such  a  record — eorainf  generations 
will  find  here  inspiration  and  incentive  for  yet  greater  ef- 
fort and  larger  sacrifice. 

HENRY  OTIS  DWIGHT 

A  Muslim  Sir  Galahad 

A  Present  Day  Story  of  Islam  In  Turkey.  Net  $1.00. 

"The  author  of  'Constantinople  and  Its  Problems.'  has 
written  an  intensely  interesting  atory  of  present>day  lurkisb 
life.  A  fascinating  picture  of  the  Klohammedan  world. 
Recent  events  in  the  N^ar  East  make  this  book  of  unusual 
interest,  and  a  better  book,  throwing  sidelights  on  the  Mo- 
hammedan question,  could  net  be  found. "-^/'act'Sf  Prfsby- 
Uriam. 


